


So Fades The Portion Of Our Early World

by Hekate1308



Series: Something You Somehow Haven't To Deserve [2]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-13 04:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 51,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21488404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hekate1308/pseuds/Hekate1308
Summary: They had defeated the Army. They had won. Captain Endeavour Thursday had come home.And then tragedy struck and his friends and family could only do their best to cope as the world came crashing down around them and they had to face the prospect of losing him forever just as they had gotten him back.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse & Fred Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Joan Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Sam Thursday, Endeavour Morse & Win Thursday, Peter Jakes & Endeavour Morse
Series: Something You Somehow Haven't To Deserve [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548466
Comments: 39
Kudos: 54





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imaginationtherapy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationtherapy/gifts), [guardianoffun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guardianoffun/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Rusty Cage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21033488) by [imaginationtherapy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginationtherapy/pseuds/imaginationtherapy). 

> I do not think this story would exist without imaginationtherapy's maginificent spin-off of the original story, Rusty Cage. Check it out if you want more Captain Endeavour Thursday - there is also an addition to the story by guardianoffun, let him live, so I am pretty sure we are an extended universe now. I am indebted to imaginationtherapy for a few elements from their story, too.  
Hope you all enjoy this!

Fred had never much cared for the theatre. There was something about it that had always rubbed him the wrong way – no matter how well acted, how well portrayed it all was, even as a child, he had known it was just a façade, a game, and that as soon as the lights went out, the actors would return to their real lives that struck him as infinitely more important because they were what was _really_ going on, as opposed to the struggles and deaths of kings who had lived long before or never truly done so at all.

And yet, here he was, once again directing a play of his own.

He glanced at his watch.

Almost eight am. Almost time.

He strolled into the living room, where three worried faces looked up at him. How he hated this new routine they had been forced to adapt for themselves. How he hated that they were afraid of the very morning, of the first few sun beams streaking across the sky, of what they were sure to bring.

The only thing that was worse were the weekends, when they had no way of knowing, no excuse for seeing…

He cleared his throat and did his best to appear optimistic. “Are you ready?”

They looked at him for a moment more, then three pairs of eyes dropped away from his face as they all muttered in agreement.

Fred anxiously studied them all.

There was Win, as always trying to be the rock of the family, making breakfast, or rather, her hands going through the familiar motion while her thoughts were miles away, while her thoughts were concentrated on a specific place in town, wherever _he_ happened to be right now…

There was Sam, pale but determined, maybe the best actor of them all; but whether this was due to some talent he had developed because he was their youngest and therefore well equipped to accuse his older siblings of doing something he was at fault for growing up or because he didn’t allow himself to dwell on what was going on, Fred couldn’t say.

And then there was Joan.

She had perhaps been hit by it the worst; and it had taken Fred a while to understand why, since she steadfastly refused to talk about it. It had been Win who’d dragged him into the kitchen one night, away from their curious ears, and told him quietly, “Joan’s a beautiful young woman. She’s used to men looking at her… shyly, as if they wished they could get to know her, to see if… but never _him_. _Never_. Not even when he was… when the… not him. And now… She doesn’t know what to do.”

None of them did.

But ever since that evening, he’d tried his outmost to get Joan to leave before…

She wouldn’t hear of it. _You have to live with it, and so have I,_ she’d said, looking more determined than he’d ever seen her. _And _he_ had to – for fifteen years, Dad. I won’t fold after a month. At least we have each other; he had no one, in the beginning. _

Fred had flinched, not wanting, but needing the reminder.

And so here they were, once more waiting for him.

Peter had offered them to find a reason to pick him up instead of… but they had declined.

Fred was reasonably sure they’d go insane if they didn’t get to see him regularly.

Even after what had taken place only four short weeks ago.

**One month ago**

**Dev had done his best to reassure them all, members of the police and the Guard alike. That was his job as the Captain. **

**As if none of them were aware that Cowley station and the Guard having to work together meant this was very dangerous indeed. **

**But still – here they were, again in the squad room, Dev explaining the case once more the master of the situation, Peter at his side, as always. **

**“We don’t know exactly who, or maybe what, we’re dealing with. They certainly aren’t people… things like them never are. They have the shape of people, but that is it.” He paused for a moment to let the information sink in. “They came into being long ago because people believed in them. Belief is a powerful force, especially when it’s backed by magic… and many of the priests in old times did have magic, even if they didn’t know it. And so they were created. Most of them – and we may well consider this a blessing – faded away as they were lost to human memory, but others held on. And it’s one of them we are hunting for.”**

**“How can you be sure, Captain?” Shirley asked. **

**Dev turned to the board. “I cannot be entirely sure even now” he admitted. “But this…” he waved his hand towards the pictures they had put up. People who had shown up at the houses of others, firmly believing the were other people, and most puzzling of all – even having the memories to match. Being perfectly capable of telling their (horrified) spouses when and where they had met, or the child sicknesses they had nursed their offspring through, despite being someone else, and not recognizing their true family members when confronted with them…**

**It was a little too familiar for Fred’s liking. **

**And yet still different. **

**That was magic for you. **

**“This is… whoever is doing this, they are very powerful. Those are old curses; old spells, maybe. Sometimes you have to see it to believe it.”**

**He was right, of course; if you had asked Fred, he wouldn’t have believed true magic to exist for fifteen long years, until a case had brought the Guard to their doorstep and circumstances had eventually forced Peter to make him remember. **

**“What about the other victims, Captain?” Strange ventured. “Those who actually had those memories?”**

**Dev’s silence was answer enough. **

**“Is there a way to reverse this?” Fred asked. **

**“There may be” Peter said, “But it will take a lot of work. The Healers at the hospital are already researching the case as we speak.”**

**“And now to the reason why we are here” Dev decided, pointing at a map. “Magic like this – especially if the user is weakened, which I have no doubt they are, since they are desperately trying to make themselves relevant again – has to be done in the oldest parts of town. The powers of the land have had time to accumulate there, so they are much more accessibly than in the modern quarters. And I think we’ve reasonably pin-pointed it to here…”**

** _We_ ** ** meaning him and Peter, of course. Their magic was so aligned at this point that the most complicated spells and hexes proved barely an inconvenience to them when they weaved their powers together. **

**Small wonder, if you asked Fred. They had grown into a formidable team over the ten years where they had built up the Guard. **

**“Alright. Volunteers?”**

**As always when Dev asked, the entirety of the Guard and a good junk of Cowley station immediately raised their hands. **

**After all, _Sergeant_ Endeavour Thursday was slowly becoming a legend of his own right; _Captain_ Endeavor Thursday already was one. **

**“Good. So we’ll take…” And he began discussing their situation with Peter in a low voice. The Guard was too used to such scenes to even bat an eye at it, but Fred had to bite back a smile at Strange’s slightly confused expression. He still wasn’t quite accustomed to the rapport between Dev and Peter. **

**Still, come up with a list of names they did. **

* * *

**Fred hadn’t been in this part of town often. Not because it was old, or because its citizens were somewhat more law-abiding than the rest – but simply because there weren’t many left to do any crimes. Mane of the buildings were crumbling and abandoned, which he assumed made things all the easier for whoever or whatever they were chasing. **

**They were all wearing hex bags to protect themselves, of course. Dev had insisted on it and even if he hadn’t, it would have been foolish not to do sol. **

**Despite that, Dev had gently drawn him to the side before they’d left. **

**“Dad is there any way I can convince you…”**

**He would perhaps have felt hurt if he hadn’t known his son’s reluctant to take him with them was born out of the wish to keep him safe, not because he considered him old and unadaptable. “None.”**

**“Dad, this is going to be –“**

**“If you really think telling me this is going to be dangerous and that I should let my oldest run in there by himself will change my mind, think again.”**

**Dev blinked at him then, surprise for a moment marring his features., and Fred had been forcibly reminded that, despite the spell having been lifted months ago, now and then Dev still acted as if it hadn’t, for the simple reason that he had spent fifteen long years pretending (sometimes even to himself) that it was truth. “I suppose not” he then acquiesced and Fred had squeezed his shoulder. **

**And so here they were once more. **

**Sally Ford the banshee was next to him; he strongly suspected Dev had given the suggestion (if not even the instruction) that at least one member of the Guard should always stay close to him. He couldn’t find it in himself to be irritated at that. **

**“If the Captain and the Commander are right” she said quietly, “We should be circling in on it now, Inspector.”**

**He nodded. **

**They moved closer. **

* * *

**It all happened so fast. **

**One moment, they were closing in, the next, there was only Peter, Fred and Endeavour, standing in an empty room. **

**His son’s face looked pale. “This shouldn’t have –“**

**“And do you think I am that weak, Morse?”**

**The glint in his eyes turned dangerous as he faced the shape that had spontaneously appeared in the middle of the room. “My name is Captain Endeavour Thursday” he growled. **

**“Ah, but it wasn’t for a long time, was it?” – _she_ asked. **

**Fred thought she looked a little like Octavia Stevens, and that was not a good sign. **

**“It’s not anymore” Dev replied, his hands balling into fists. **

**“Dev…” Peter said quietly, stepping up to him. **

**“Ah, memories. They are powerful, are they not?” she smiled. “But they hurt, too.” She glanced at Fred. “Although you did have a good time while your son was out there, all alone Inspector, did you not?”**

**He grit his teeth. He couldn’t allow her to rile them up. **

**“Actually” she suddenly said, “I have an idea!” She smiled. “Like I said, memories… so powerful.” She smiled at them all, and it was a terrible thing to behold. **

**“Why don’t I show you how it felt?”**

**And before any of them could do something, she was suddenly in front of Dev, touching his forehead. **

**He collapsed and she was gone. **

**“Dev!” **

**They both called out to him, then tried their best to rouse him. **

**Peter told him, relief seeping through his voice, that he could detect no malignant spells; and Fred allowed himself to hope until Dev opened his eyes and called him something he hadn’t called him since the spell was lifted. **

**Now**

The door bell rang.

Fred closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Another day of pretending, of play-acting, while the members of the Guard and the Healers at the hospital desperately tried to figure out a solution before it was too late and they lost him forever.

“Win, I can –“

“Hush, Fred. I am not some delicate flower.” And, as every day since this nightmare had begun (anew, he was almost tempted to say, for hadn’t they suffered enough? Fifteen years of at least one member of their family being affected by a spell at all times. Dear Lord) she went to open the door and said brightly, “Good morning, Morse.”

And Dev – _You should think of him as Morse,_ the Chairman had said, _like he does himself_, but there was no way this was happening on Fred’s watch – answered, in the tone of a deferential bagman who was speaking to the wife of his superior, for so he believed himself to be, replied politely, “Good morning, Mrs. Thursday.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much guys, glad you like it! Also, I forgot to click on "This has multiple chapters" so I am sorry for any confusion. Enjoy!

A heavy silence settled upon them as Dev drove to the station. It was probably for the best; Fred wasn’t sure how much of the stilted small talk his son (_his son_) considered normal for them he could take before he would explode.

And to think that Dev had pretended to be like this – that they were like this to one another – for three years without batting an eye.

Eventually, he began, “Nothing new from the night shift, sir.”

He hummed. _Once upon a time, that would have meant something; you would have been telling me that it was a quiet night for the Guard, and then you would have laughed and said something like _Well, as quiet as it gets, Dad_, and there would be a sandwich in your pocket because Mum won’t let you leave the house without. _

He didn’t say any of it. He couldn’t. Whenever he did…

He took a deep breath.

“Is everything alright, sir?”

Of course. He had to stay focused; whether knowing himself to be Dev or believing himself to be Morse, he was still sharp and could tell immediately when he was acting strange. “Yes, thank you.”

“With Mrs. Thursday and Miss Thursday and Sam, too?”

_Mum. Mum and Joanie and Sammy, son. That’s who they are. _

“Yes, thank you they are well”.

He nodded then concentrated back on his driving.

It wasn’t just the missing memories. No, they could have dealt with that, even with the… repercussions; there was nothing they wouldn’t have gladly taken in stride for their boy.

No, it was that Morse, as opposed to Dev even in his darkest times – times Peter had only alluded to ever so slightly, and never in front of him, times when he had asked himself if they had ever truly loved him as much as he had loved them, times when he had despaired of the spell ever being lifted – was _miserable_. Alone and feeling that no one cared, and slowly drinking himself to an early grave; they had checked the bins near his flat and had found nothing but bottles.

And Fred could do nothing about it because in Morse’s eyes, he didn’t have the rights or privileges of a father.

If he would have been happy, it would have been different. Fred would gladly have play-acted the rest of his life, as long as his boy was _happy_.

But he wasn’t, and so he considered it best to relapse back into silence, guessing correctly that Dev would assume he didn’t want to talk, even if he didn’t believe his reassurances that everything was fine.

* * *

When they arrived at the station, Peter’s eyes, as always, flew to Dev, only to be withdrawn in the next moment. Thankfully, he had yet to notice.

“Sir.” Then, after a pause, “Morse.”

He still sounded too friendly, but Fred hadn’t yet found the courage to talk to him about it. Peter was doing the best he could while leading the Guard, too; and it was perhaps asking too much to expect him to be a perfect actor around the one man he’d been accustomed to be entirely his own self around for a decade.

“Jakes” He brushed past him without another glance, and Peter did his best (and failed, as Fred well knew) not to look hurt.

Strange cleared his throat. “Good morning, matey.”

He’d taken on the role as the one to diffuse difficult situations with surprising ease; when Fred had quizzed him about it, he had told him, surprisingly honest, That “I don’t have the imagination to realize how much it hurts, sir. I’m worried about Dev, but that’s it.”

“Good morning” he said simply and concentrated on his typewriter.

Fred’s heart sank as he watched him, but then it usually did, these days.

* * *

Peter Jakes had lived through many things in his life; as a matter of fact, if asked, he would probably have found it difficult to pinpoint the worst occurrence simply because there had been many (as Dev would have said at another time, _too many_) of them.

So he couldn’t even say that he was suffering extraordinarily badly now.

But this…

This was something else.

Ever since he had met Dev, when things went bad, there he had been, always ready with a cup of tea or something stronger, to chase the shadows away. They had always been able to talk, always been open with one another.

And now this version of him regarded Peter with outright hostility at worst and friendly antagonism at best.

There were days he could barely look at him.

Good God, what _must_ he have been going through these past three years, working this closely with his father?

“What is it?” Dev asked and Peter realized he’d been staring at this – at this stranger again.

“Nothing” he said evenly, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket. Ever since the spell had been lifted, he’d been steadily reducing the number he smoked, but now, he needed it.

Because looking at Dev and seeing a stranger was one thing.

But there was also another issue.

Their magic had been so closely aligned for ten years now that they had formed a sort of bond. If they were close enough and he concentrated, he could feel Dev – could tell roughly where he was, and whether he was alive and well; and of course even the most difficult spells proved little problem when they worked together.

Now, though?

He couldn’t feel a thing. Dev’s magic had been buried so deep that not even he could reach it.

He noticed his fingers shaking and cursed himself. He couldn’t allow Dev to realize something was off, couldn’t bring him more pain. He’d had enough of that.

And so he, as DI Thursday would have said, soldiered on.

* * *

Morse didn’t know what was the matter with him, lately. Of course he still drank too much and felt lonely occasionally; but usually, he could deal with those facts well enough.

However, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, lately. Something was very wrong.

As Shirley Trewlove brought him a cup of tea without him asking for it and he thanked her with a smile, he told himself that everything was normal, even if Jakes kept throwing him these weird glances.

It didn’t work.

**One month earlier**

**Dev’s eyes fluttered open and immediately focused on Fred. He could feel something in him unclench, and I wasn’t difficult to tell from the ways his shoulder sagged with relief that Peter felt the same. **

**“There you are, s-“**

**“Sir? What happened?”**

_Sir_ **. **

**Dev hadn’t called him sir since the day the spell was lifted, not even at work; Superintendent Bright had indicated early that he had no problem with him calling Fred Dad as long as the work got done, understanding as well as they did that he’d ben forcing himself to see himself as nothing but DI Thursday’s bagman for too long. **

**“Dev, what –“**

**He frowned, then wrung his wrist out of Peter’s grip. “I’m fine.”**

**“Dev –“ Now it was his second-in-command who tried, his voice strained. **

**“What, Jakes?”**

_Jakes. _

**Oh God. ** _Oh God, no._

**“Dev” je automatically rushed out, “It’s me. Peter. We’re friends, remember? Best friends, even” (as if there was any competition, Fred thought distractedly; apart from Joan or Sam, he didn’t think Dev was closer to anyone) “And you just got hurt during a mission of the Guard’s, but don’t worry, we’ll fix you up soon –“**

**“What are you ** _talking_ ** about?” he asked, his eyes wide, before turning to Fred. “Sir, what is going –“**

**A seizure shook him and he cried out in pain. **

**“Dev!”**

**Fred could only catch him as he collapsed. **

**Peter reached out and he had the presence of mind to slap his hand away. “Not until we know what is happening, Sergeant” he barked. Much as he wanted him to take some of Dev’s pain, they couldn’t risk it. God only knew what that woman – if she ** _was_ ** a woman – had done to Dev. **

**For a moment, he feared Peter would object, but then he simply nodded, a look of pain on his face as if he had performed the spell after all. **

**Dev had stopped convulsing. **

**They needed to get him to a hospital, and quickly. **

* * *

**They were waiting. **

**There was nothing else they could do. **

**It had been impossible to keep the news a secret, of course; with Joan and Sam both having joined the Guard, although as administrative personal rather than crime-investigating members, there had been no way to not let them know; and Fred had had to call Win, of course. **

**And so they were huddled close in a corner, fear making it impossible to speak. **

**Members of the Guard kept flitting in and out, eager for news of their captain; thankfully, Peter was handling them, probably to avoided thinking about what was going on behind those doors himself. **

**Movement in the corner of Fred’s eyes. **

**The Chairman had slipped in the room without anyone but him noticing. **

**Their gazes met. Then, the Chairman almost imperceptibly nodded and settled in a corner to wait, still unseen by everyone but Fred. **

**He understood that he wanted to keep it this way. **

* * *

**Fred had met Monica Hicks some time before on a routine enquiry, and had learned soon after the spell had been lifted that she was one of Oxford most reliable Healer’s. She might not have been able to magically glue broken bones together or heal everything, as he would perhaps have expected if he had learned of magic for the first time, but she could elevate pain and diagnose almost every disease, magical or otherwise, there was. **

**So when the door flew open and she came in with a carefully neutral expression, his heart sank. **

**She stepped up to them. “Inspector, Mrs. Thursday, Joan, Sam. I really wish we’d meet again under better circumstances.”**

**He nodded. **

**“Captain Thursday’s conditions is…” she hesitated. “Unusual.”**

**That was not a good sign. As a Healer, Miss Hicks had by now dealt with almost every magical ailment known to man. “How so?”**

**“I am very sorry to say this, but according to his own beliefs… right now, he’s not Captain Dev Thursday. He is Sergeant Endeavour Morse, and always has been.”**

**Win’s breath caught in her throat; her grasp on Fred’s biceps tightened until it was almost painful. “What do you mean?” she asked gently. **

**“It means that… well… the illusion the spell kept up for fifteen years… it’s his reality, now.”**

**“He doesn’t know he’s our brother!?” Joan demanded. **

**“It goes deeper than that. He doesn’t know of magic, or the Guard. He has no idea that he and Commander Jakes are friends. And of course he believes that his last name is Morse, that his mother is dead and that he subsequently went to live with his father and his sister Joyce.” She paused. “Again, I am very sorry.”**

**Fred swallowed. “is it – like the spell? If we tell him the truth…”**

**“I am sorry to say it isn’t. Whenever anything about his family situation or magic is mentioned, he goes into seizures.”**

**Sam cursed, but Fred couldn’t bring himself to berate him for it. **

**“We have him sedated, now. He’ll sleep until tomorrow morning. But I cannot stress this enough – any attempt to tell him the truth will only lead to him suffering more. I” she swallowed “Until we figured out what exactly happened, no one can do so. No one” she added when Peter moved “Not even you, Commander. I don’t think he would welcome your visit, anyway. I’m sorry”. **

**Peter slumped back on his chair as Fred watched the Chairman leave the room. He hoped desperately that he would come up with a solution. “So what do you suggest, Healer?” he asked, doing his best to keep his voice steady. **

**“I am afraid that until this situation is resolved, I have to ask you to… pretend.”**

**“Pretend?”**

**And then she said the words he had never wanted to hear. **

**“That Sergeant Morse is that, and ** _just _ **that, Inspector.”**


	3. Chapter 3

Peter strolled into the Guard‘s headquarters during what was officially his lunch hour at Cowley station – while neither DI Thursday nor Superintendent Bright would have raised objections to him being gone for longer, he couldn’t risk triggering the spell or whatever had been placed on Dev, so he had to make haste.

“Commander!” Sally ran towards him, and his heart sank; he already knew what she was going to ask.

He decided it best to make it quick. “No changes.”

Her face fell. “I see. I will let the others you.”

He nodded, feeling rather grateful; if there was one thing he hadn’t looked forward to, it was every member of the Guard yet again coming to ask him about their captain.

He couldn’t blame them for it, but by God, did he wish that it wasn’t necessary.

They were all extremely loyal to Dev, of course, which was part of the reason why they accepted Peter’s leadership – because Dev would have wanted him to take it; but still; it didn’t make things easier.

Peter had known for a while now that eventually, this would become a reality; that he would be leading the Guard while Dev would be the Chairman of the Council. The current Chairman had been dropping hints about it for quite some time, and there would come a day when Dev would react to them instead of politely ignoring them. But on that day, Peter would know and be prepared and most importantly, they would still have Dev. He’d undoubtedly drop by all the time, and of course Peter would be reporting directly to him.

This – _this_ was different.

He went into his office, having refused to even consider moving into Dev’s, and forced himself zo close the door behind him as quietly as he could instead of throwing it closed.

That woman. She was in all of their thoughts, and yet slipped away constantly if they didn’t pay attention.

If they hadn’t had Dev as a living proof, perhaps they would have forgotten about her altogether.

And something about that seemed so very familiar, but Peter couldn’t say if he had ever encountered someone with powers like that or if, perhaps, he was just remembering all those years where Dev’s family hadn’t recognized him.

He sighed and went to work on some reports. Dev would never forgive him if he let things slide just because he wasn’t there to check up on them.

* * *

Ever since this had begun, Peter had chosen lunch hour as a means to do Guard business; Fred strongly suspected that he simply couldn’t stand the thought of sitting across from Dev as he solved his crosswords, oblivious to their history.

To his credit though, the sergeant had been reluctant to let Fred suffer through it alone until Strange had offered to keep them company.

And so here they were once more, Fred forcing himself to eat his sandwich while wanting nothing more to beg Dev to eat it instead.

He had definitely lost weight in the last month, as Fred was well aware Win calculated every morning, watching him with sad eyes. And again, he’d only opted for a beer instead of having something to eat.

How had he managed to stand by and watch even when he had thought of him as nothing but his bagman? Fred would never know.

Dev put the paper aside and glanced at his watch. “Four minutes. Not bad.”

One of the biggest differences between Dev and Morse was how they acted around people. When he had been playing his constable, He’d been shy and introverted, probably so that he wouldn’t slip up and show some undue familiarity with them all.

Dev, on the other hand, despite the pain he had gone through, was underneath it all still the boy Win and Fred had raised – open, friendly and always happy to be around his friends and family.

And to see it all being taken away…

He balled one of his hands into a fist under the table. It was all the means of relief he had.

His sandwich tasted like ashes in his mouth.

* * *

Sometimes, Jim thought that one of these days everything that was happening was going to give him whiplash. First, he learned that Morse was not only the Captain of the Guard – an organisation he had had no knowledge of previously; then he got to hear that he was the Old Man’s son; and now he was Morse once again and not Dev, and it was slowly eating up the Inspector from the inside.

Not that Jakes was doing much better. He tried not to show it, of course, but Strange feared that any day now, he was going to simply break down and beg Morse to remember.

This didn’t bode well.

“And, met any birds lately, matey?” he asked in an attempt to fill the silence. Naturally, the inspector found it difficult to talk to this version of his son.

“No” he answered simply.

Just as well. Probably a good thing he wasn’t looking fer a girl while he had no idea who he was.

Problem was, now Jim had no idea what to talk about.

* * *

Something about this was familiar, Peter decided. He wasn’t seeing or inventing things because he was desperate. No, there was something…

Something…

_God damnit_ _man, think. This is Dev we are talking about. This is _important_._

And so he did his best to try and remember.

Eventually, he stood up and walked to the archive. Dev had always insisted that it be kept up to date at all costs.

And there was…

There had been a case…

Somewhere deep on his mind, he could feel it…

It was strange that he couldn’t recall, but everything about this had to do with memory, hadn’t it? Dev’s had been taken from him, just as others had been implanted into other people’s minds…

Yes. Two years ago. That must have been…

He opened the drawer for that year.

He closed his eyes, willing his magic to work for him…

There. His fingers closed around a specific file.

**Two years ago**

_Having worked and been close friends with Dev for eight years now, Peter normally knew when something was wrong. _

_Naturally, these days, something was always wrong because they had been forced to return to Oxford, and Dev had to work with his father without said father being aware of their relationship. _

_Peter tried to shield him as best as he could, but there was only so much he could do. They weren’t even supposed to be friends, and if he should be too protective or too kind someone was bound to notice – not last the Old Man himself; whether from some buried paternal instinct or because he considered Dev an excellent detective, he watched out for him like a hawk. _

_Still – there were days that were more difficult than others, and when he entered Dev’s office in the Guard building, he could tell from his expression that this was one of them. _

_However, he didn’t look haunted, so this was maybe not about his family. “Dev, what –“_

_“Peter. I’ve been meaning to speak to you. Sit down.”_

_Oh oh. There was only one reason why he would want to talk with him like this, all alone. _

_A case. And it was bad. _

_He sat down and patiently waited for the captain to begin, somewhat surprised when he didn’t take one, but four files out of his desk. _

_“I…” he hesitated for a moment then continued, “This has to stay strictly between us.”_

_Peter frowned. “Of course.” Normally Dev didn’t feel the need to remind him that their conversations were confidential. _

_He shook his head. “Sorry, Peter. It’s just… I can’t tell if I’m just being paranoid. Maybe it’s nothing.”_

_“With you, it’s usually something” he pointed out correctly. _

_Dev sighed. “It’s just – well –“ He handed him the files. “Just go through those, will you? Come back to me.”_

_He nodded and accepted the files. _

* * *

_It was an unwritten rule of the Guard that they left him alone when he had a special assignment from Dev – and so he was left in peace to carefully go through the files. _

_Hm. There was indeed something strange about them. _

_At first glance, they appeared to be just normal cases – a mugging, two stolen wallets, and one hit-and-run that thankfully had only resulted in a dislocated shoulder… and yet. _

_And yet. _

_He took the files and walked to the door connecting his and Dev’s offices. He knocked. _

_“Come in!”_

_When he saw Peter’s face, his own fell. “I was hoping I was mistaken.”_

_“You weren’t. There’s something strange about this…” Peter pulled out the notes he had taken. “Every single one of the victims said it happened in brought daylight, they were well-rested, three of them were even returning from lunch. And yet, despite that, they say they cannot remember whether or not they saw the culprit. And there’s a mugging..”_

_“I know. That’s the first one that I noticed. Called the victim – I thought there might have been a head injury that simply hadn’t been discovered when they made their disposition – but no. They were barely hurt.”_

_That was in itself good news, but didn’t explain what was going on. _

_Dev looked down at the files and just for a second Peter saw the familiar pain in his eyes. _

_Memories. Why did it have to be something to do with memories? Dev was understandably and invariably too close when it came to such things. “So you think the same person is responsible and they scramble their memories afterwards?” There was no easier way to say this, no way to make Dev’s pain. _

_Peter hated it. _

_“Could be. Or it could be something else entirely. You know magic.”_

_Yes, Peter had learned a lot about magic in the last eight years, and he still thought that sometimes, the rules didn’t make a whole lot of sense. _

_For example, if magic looked after its own, why had it just protected Dev but not those he loved most?_

_He didn’t voice the thought. It was an unspoken agreement between them that they only ever talked about the spell afflicting Dev when he himself mentioned it. Peter’s attempts in the beginning to speak of it had always been shut down. _

_It had been before he’d understood what an incredibly private subject it was for Dev. _

_Still, he couldn’t help but carefully study him. _

_He didn’t seem too distressed, but then, he was good at hiding his emotions like that. The only reason Peter knew how much he had suffered when DI Thursday had forgotten him again after remembering him for a week was because he knew him so well. _

_“So what are you planning on doing?” he asked. _

_“Any chance I can persuade you to stay behind until we know what –“_

_“None.”_

_“This could be dangerous.”_

_“Which is why I am going to be right beside you, like always” he said firmly. “If I’m not coming then you’re not going.”_

_Dev couldn’t help but smile, much to Peter’s relief. “So what, now you’re my Boswell?”_

_“If that’s what it needs to keep you safe…”_

_Dev was shaking his head at him. “You know, if something ever happened to me, you would have to lead the Guard.”_

_Peter knew. Peter knew that very well. _

_And he knew equally well how difficult it was just to contemplate that so he didn’t answer. _

* * *

_In the end, they decided to go and talk to the victims again. _

_All of them were creatures – hardly an unusual occurrence in their line of work; and thankfully, all knew and trusted the Guard. _

_And of course it was by now a well-known fact that if the Captain and the Commander showed up together, it was important. _

_“Really, I cannot explain it” Mrs. Fine, a phoenix looking (like they all did) good for her age, told them. “I should be able to tell you something. But I can’t.”_

_Yes. Definitely something influencing memories. _

_Peter threw Dev a glance. _

_This wouldn’t be easy. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a hard day ahead of me, so... comments please? :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry if this sucks, my day was about as bad as I had foreseen.

Something was wrong. Something was very, _very_ wrong.

And Peter wasn’t thinking about the obvious, about the fact that his best friend didn’t even know he was his best friend.

No. The fact was, _he should have remembered this file_. He remembered most of their cases, and even if he couldn’t recall the details, he was normally able to tell anyone who needed to know the basics.

But not when it came to this one.

He should have, but he didn’t.

It was surprisingly sparse on details, too; that was strange, considering how thorough Dev had always been when it dame to documenting facts (Peter had always suspected that this too was at least partly motivated by the spell that had been placed on him – a desire to keep tract of what was real; but of course he had never asked).

And why was he only thinking of it, now? It seemed one of them had simply placed the file in the archive and proceeded to forget all about it.

There was precious little in here to hold onto, as well. A few cases that had struck Dev as being remarkable at the time; they had apparently gone to interview witnesses; but even those facts were hazy and confused in Peter’s mind.

There was something here, he was sure of it.

And just as certain as he was of that, he could feel in his bones that this had to do with whatever had happened to Dev when that… woman (it _had_ been a woman, right? To his shock, the scene was already fading from his memory as well) had touched him.

He had to act, and he had to act quickly.

Should he tell anyone? Dev’s family might deserve to know, but they had enough to deal with at the moment.

The rest of the Guard? It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them – it was that he had the distinct feeling this had been a case between him and Dev alone, like in those first few years when they had still been building it up and it somehow would have felt like a betrayal to a man who couldn’t even remember they were close to let anyone know.

Peter sighed and rubbed his forehead. It was difficult enough to juggle his responsibilities and to pretend day after day that he didn’t care for or about Dev, and now this.

But if there had been a case that none of them could recall, and all of this was obviously linked to memories…

He had to take the chance, if only so he wouldn’t stand idly by while…

He recoiled from the thought like always. Dev would have chastised him for it, would have told him that coping was another thing than ignoring something altogether, but that had never been Peter’s philosophy.

Especially when it came to things like this. 

But the truth of the matter was…

Dev’s seizures were getting worse.

And they couldn’t keep him from having one forever.

If he didn’t clear this up...

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, not even in his mind. 

* * *

Mrs. Fine immediately remembered him, then wondered why she hadn’t thought about being questioned for nearly two years now.

He gently broke to her that this was the reason he was here.

“Oh, of course. Do come in –“

“Commander” he interrupted her when he sensed her hesitation. “Still Commander.”

And he would fight his damnest to stay just that for as long as he could.

Her eyes softened, as if she guessed his thoughts. “Of course, Commander. Do come in.”

Of course everyone who even bothered slightly to stay informed about the magical community knew. Guard news was everyone’s news, and Dev was pretty popular to boot.

“How about I make us some tea?”

He realized he must look even worse than he felt, but accepted her invitation.

“Yes” she finally said when they were sitting down and having their drinks, “I do remember getting mugged. And somehow, I do remember that you interviewed me, but if I don’t pay attention… the memory slides away. Like water from a duck.”

Peter thought quickly. That actually sounded good. Because it meant the memories were still there, not permanently deleted, even if Mrs. Fine couldn’t access them properly.

And that might mean it was the same with Dev.

It wasn’t much progress – after all, they had already known he must have some connection to his lost memories, otherwise he wouldn’t have suffered every time he came too close to one of them – but it was still something to cling to.

“I see. Did someone come to… see you after us? Is there anyway you could…”

“I don’t think…” she frowned, then closed her eyes. “Give me a moment, Sergeant.”

Of course. A phoenix’ memory was somewhat more complicated than a human’s, or than that of other creatures’.

They had to remember who they were after every burning, for one thing.

“There was… someone. Shortly after you came to visit, if I remember correctly. She wanted to know about you.”

“She?” he asked quickly. So it had been a woman, or at least someone who looked like a woman.

“Yes. Definitely. I am certain of that.” She sighed. “But apart from that…”

“It’s a fact. It’s something”. Peter realized how much he sounded like Dev and winced but did his best to hide it. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Fine.”

“Please Commander; it’s nothing.”

She brought him to the door, then hesitated for a moment before saying, “I know this can’t be easy for you. But I want you to know – most people I’ve talked to – we all agree that the captain would have none other but you work the case, if he knew what was going on.”

Peter swallowed, then nodded. Speaking was too difficult.

She squeezed his forearm and muttered something her recognized as the traditional phoenix blessings. “Our Lady Sun won’t let you down, Commander. I am sure of it.”

He did his best to look self-assured and confident as he thanked her.

**One month ago**

**What do you mean, we can’t even see him!?” Joan’s voice was shrill and on the verge of panic and Fred tried his best to calm her down even though he felt the same. **

**“He wouldn’t expect you to visit, Joanie, not as Sergeant Morse. Me and Mum, that’s something different.”**

**“Your father’s right” Peter told her, pale but determined, “It would be highly unlikely that both of you should come to see him just after he was admitted to hospital. Give it a few days, and you might be able to drop by for a few minutes – one of you at a time, if he even stays here that long. But right now we can’t risk it. I can’t see him either, you know.”**

**It was that last sentence – spoken with a hint of desperation Peter must be feeling – that made Joan realized, and she nodded tensely. **

**Sam hadn’t said a thing, but his wide sad eyes told them enough. **

**“Look after him” Joan said. “Just please Mum….”**

**“Don’t worry dear we’ll do our outmost to make him comfortable” Win assured her. **

**At least, Fred thought, this wasn’t out of character; Dev should be fine with that. **

**He prayed. **

**They stood in front of the door. Win took his hand and nodded at him. **

**Fred took a deep breath, then nodded and entered. **

**Dev looked fine, if a little tired, and for a moment he almost fooled himself into believing that everything was alright. **

**And then he looked at them and frowned. “Sir – Mrs. Thursday. You didn’t have to come.”**

**“Of course I had to, dear” Win managed to say, even if she sounded as if she was choking back tears. “I had to see how you were getting on.”**

**“I’m fine. They say they’ll release me in a day or two.” He was looking anywhere but at them, the shy, self-conscious façade he had presented to them for so long firmly in place and, worse, being believed in, and Fred wanted to punch the wall. **

**“That’s good news!” Win said brightly, stepping up to him and immediately starting to fuss with his bedclothes. **

**“Mrs. Thursday that’s really not – you shouldn’t – there’s no reason to –“ He still didn’t know where to look, but Win was already finished by the time he decided how to express his opinion. **

**“There. See? No trouble at all” she said right before giving into her instincts and pulling him into a hug “Oh sweetheart, everything will be fine, I promise –“**

**Only it wouldn’t be, at least not right now, because Dev immediately seized up. **

**Fred was at the door shouting for help before even realizing he’d gone to do so. **

* * *

**“I’m so sorry” Win whispered for the tenth time or so, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t meant to. He just looked like he needed a hug –“**

**And she would have known what that looked like because she had held him back when the bombs had gone down. **

**Fred pulled her close. **

**Healer Hicks was nothing if not sympathetic. “Of course, Mrs. Thursday. We all know you didn’t mean for this to happen. The problem is that Sergeant Morse, unlike your son, doesn’t seem accustomed to physical affection, so it triggered an episode. He doesn’t remember it, of course”.**

**Fred wondered if that made it better or worse. **

**“He will still get released in afew days, however, since there doesn’t seem to be any lasting damage for now.”**

_For now._ ** The words kept repeating themselves in Fred’s head. ** _No lasting damage for now. _

**“What if you put him in a healing trance?” Peter chimed in. “Until this all blows over, he wouldn’t be in pain then –“**

**But she shook her head. “We don’t know what we are dealing with, and a trance would make it impossible to figure out.”**

**“So what are you going to do” Fred demanded, his heart beating wildly in his chest. There had to be something they could do for his son. He refused to believe otherwise. **

**“I think” she said carefully, “The best thing will be if he continues to live his life as Sergeant Morse for now. We will invent a reason for regular check-ups so we can find out whether whatever happened to your son will abate on its own or get worse.”**

**Fred don’t want to imagine it getting worse. **

**Win pressed his hand, still looking guiltier than he had ever seen her. **

**“And, of course – you will have to make certain that nothing happens that would be out of the ordinary for Sergeant Morse. If a hug from his mother can cause a seizure – no, Mrs. Thursday, really, it wasn’t your fault – there is every reason to believe other things can as well.”**

**He would have to act as if his son, who had already lost them for fifteen years, wasn’t his son, was nothing but his bagman. Win wasn’t allowed to touch her boy, and Joan and Sam would be unable to come to him for advice or a short laugh or tease him at family dinner.**

**Before this night, he had firmly believed the worst moment of his life to be the one where Peter had told him the truth about who Dev was, and he had to deal with having forgotten his own child. **

**Now he wasn’t so sure. **

**“We will do our best” Win vowed, squeezing his hand again. **

* * *

**Somehow, right before they left the hospital – were made to leave, really – the Chairman showed up again. Of course he knew everything there was to know. **

**“If I were you, Inspector – if I could be so frank – it would probably best to think of him as Morse for now. It would help –“**

**“It wouldn’t help at all” Joan told him hotly. “And I’ll think of my brother any way I want, thank you!”**

**She swept out of the room, Sam at her heels. **

**“Chairman, I –“**

**He waved a hand in the air. “I understand, Inspector. She is worried for Dev. We all are.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I can never resist the temptation to add to the lore. Ah well.


	5. Chapter 5

“Where’s Jakes?“ Fred asked into the room, and even that cost him a little bit of pain. Ever since they had gotten their memories back, Peter had slowly become – well, _Peter_ to them all; he came over so often that it was impossible for him to be anything else, and he featured prominently in most of Dev’s stories of the Guard’s cases – and even his personal ones.

Dev looked at him and shrugged with an indifference that made his heart ache. “He said something about pursuing inquiries.”

Guard business then, according to the code they had agreed on.

He really did have to carry a lot, these days. Efficient as the Guard was, it needed a competent leader to function; and Peter was handling it all on his own.

“I see. The report on the Stones case…”

“Working on it, sir.”

Every _sir_ felt like a punch in the gut, and he wondered if this was how Dev had felt when forced to call him exactly that over and over and over.

“Good, then”.

He all but fled back to the office.

* * *

If things went on for much longer, Jim thought, this was not only going to cost them the Captain, but the Old Man as well. He was looking worse by the day.

Not that he could say anything better about Mo – de – the captain – Endeavour. Jim had gotten used to him wearing nice suits, walking into the station with a happy content smile on his face and cheerfully bidding him food morning; this creature had obviously lost weight in the last few weeks, was pale and miserable, and didn’t believe he had a single friend in the world.

Jakes could hide it a little better, but Jim knew he must be suffering as well.

This was all a mess.

He sighed and got up. “Cup of tea, matey?” At least he could get some sugar into him.

“Yes, please”.

Better than nothing.

* * *

Peter decided he needed more information and called the hospital. “Healer Hicks, please.”

“Hello?”

“Commander Jakes speaking, Healer.”

“Hello, Commander.”

“Listen, I have a few questions, if you have the time…”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

“This is about memory spells. When someone uses something like this on someone, do the memories themselves get deleted or simply… hidden from view?” He desperately needed confirmation.

Due to the singular nature of the spell that had affected Dev and his family Peter had until now never researched ordinary memory magic – it had been so utterly clear that it wouldn’t help, plus Dev was sure to have it checked thoroughly by the time he told Peter the truth.

“That… depends” she answered slowly and carefully. “There are spells that wipe someone’s memory completely and are difficult to undo. But most of them just hide, as you put it, the memories the perpetrator wants to banish. I believe that in Captain Thursday’s case, they are still intact – otherwise he would not have seizures whenever something reminds him of his real life; there would be no point. Whoever did this was also probably aware of his strong magical abilities – in other words, that his magic might protect itself; and hiding memories is much less evasive than deleting them.”

That made sense. And more than that – it gave Peter hope. If the memories were indeed still there, they could fix this. “Thank you, Healer.”

“No problem. But Commander…”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He somehow already knew what she was going to tell him.

“The last few tests have shown that Captain Thursday is declining mentally as well as physically. I have never seen him so downcast – I strongly suspect it’s a subconscious reaction to the life he knew being stolen from him – and he is in dear need of some loving care. Normally I would suggest that he move back home for a bit, but…”

“He doesn’t even know he has one anymore” Peter said, closing his eyes. “I understand.”

It had been one thing to know that Dev was getting worse; being told by a Healer, and one of Healer Hicks’ reputation, was infinitely worse. “Have you told his family?”

She hesitated. “I am not sure that would be a good idea.”

No, it wouldn’t be. Letting them know that Dev was slowly slipping away would only bring them distress and probably cause them to try and hold onto him, which would then bring on another seizure, perpetuating this vicious circle. “I think you are right” he told her.

“Good. We’re in agreement, then. But Commander… you have to know he doesn’t have much time.”

“I understand” was all he said.

He hung up and stepped out of the telephone booth.

He suddenly remembered what he had told Dev that evening in the cabin, when he’d thought he couldn’t return to Oxford.

_I don’t know who I am without you in my life anymore. _

If anything, the last month had proven this beyond a doubt.

Oxford without Endeavour Thursday. The Guard without Endeavour Thursday.

_Peter Jakes_ without Endeavour Thursday.

It simply didn’t bear to think about, so he forced the thought away and concentrated on a case.

* * *

Jakes had been gone for a while now and for some reason, it was starting to trouble Morse.

More than that, he suddenly realized, looking up from his typewriter and staring at the other sergeant’s desk, he was _worried_.

It didn’t make any sense. For one, he knew very well that Jakes could take care of himself (even with how awful his childhood had been); and two, they weren’t friends or anything like it. Sometimes-friendly colleagues at the most.

So why…

He rubbed his forehead. A headache he had been suffering repeatedly from in the last few weeks was making itself known again.

Yet Nurse Hicks at the hospital insisted that everything was alright with him, so what…

He sighed.

The truth was, he didn’t feel like himself, hadn’t for a while.

Like a stranger in his own body, he decided.

Yes. Like a stranger.

**Two years ago**

_”That didn’t exactly tell us much” Peter said carefully as they made their way from the last witness back to the headquarters. “In fact, I might be tempted to say it told us nothing.”_

_Dev sighed. “I know. But something is going on. And a criminal who can make people forget about him is dangerous.”_

_The topic they were both avoiding was close to the surface of course, but then, it always was. There were days when Peter could almost forget that the Old Man was Dev’s father, only to catch a glance of longing, of pain from his friend; either he wasn’t hiding his feelings as well as he hoped, or – more probable – Peter simply knew him too well not to notice. _

_He thought about memories, and how easily they were manipulated. _

_He thought about a young boy of eighteen who had suddenly stood all alone in the world and yet founded the Guard anew. _

_He thought about their current case. “Alright. Let’s say there is someone who can do this. They would have to be rather powerful, wouldn’t they? I mean – taking away memories can’t be easy. Plus, the rest of their memories aren’t affected.”_

_“No, it wouldn’t be” Dev replied slowly. “Memories are – memories are intertwined. Normally one would expect others to be affected as well…” he trailed off and Peter was reminded of the fact that the Army had taken all his family’s memories of him away once more. _

Should_ he mention it? But perhaps Dev wouldn’t welcome the intrusion. _

_“It’s not like the Army’s spell” he suddenly said, surprising him. “That basically wiped my existence out of their heads, but… well… the victims still remember being victims. If this spell had worked like the one they used on me, we wouldn’t even know there had been a crime.”_

_It was flatly said, a simple statement of fact, and for that very reason, it scared Peter. _

Don’t become like her,_ he wanted to say. _You told me she was cold, and calculating, and didn’t care about people. Don’t. I know it hurts Dev, but don’t.

_He didn’t because he couldn’t. _

_“Still” he continued, “There are probably certain similar elements involved... for one, they _would_ have to be powerful, you are right.”_

_It was with relief that he now detected some traces of pain in his voice, in the next moment, he hated himself for it. _

_“How about we stop for lunch?” he suggested. _

_Dev shot him a look that told him he’d guessed his thoughts, but that was nothing new, really. _

_His shoulders slumped and he quietly said, “You’ll make me talk about it, won’t you.”_

_“I know you don’t want to, but I think you should.”_

_“Fine. But for that, you’re buying.”_

_It was enough of a win for Peter to agree. _

* * *

_Dev took a sip of his orange juice. “Like I said, it’s not the same.”_

_“Still has to remind you of it, though” Peter began. _

_“Oh? You mean because I don’t have any other reminders” Dev snapped. “Because it’s not like I work with my father who doesn’t know he’s my father every day, or my little sister tried to flirt with me, or the woman who raised me as her own isn’t aware –“ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I am sorry, Peter. I had no right.”_

_He had been expecting something like this for a while now, if he was being honest. Most of the time, Dev successfully hid his feelings – well, from anyone who wasn’t Peter, that was; but now and then, especially when something like this, something with memory magic happened, it all came out. _

_He had his experiences with stuff like that. _

_They always helped each other through it. _

_“You have every right.”_

_“Still – should be doing better, shouldn’t I. Thirteen years and counting.”_

_Peter didn’t think any years would make a difference, but knew him better than to arguer. _

_Dev sighed. “This isn’t even an official case yet. Just a hunch.”_

_“Your hunches are usually right on the money.”_

_“They have to be” he answered with a weak smile “Otherwise I would have been werewolf chow a long time ago.”_

_And Peter would have been at best turned into a vampire and at worst ended up a bloodless corpse on the street. _

_“Alright, then” he decided, “What do we do?”_

_“I think” Dev said carefully, still not fully looking at him, “It’s time we did some research on memory itself”. _

* * *

_And that was how they ended up in yet another small library, pouring over books. _

_It was a magical library of course, only available to those who knew about magic and needed to learn something about it. Just like normal libraries, they were scattered all over Oxford – the Bodleian even had a separate entrance for magic users. _

_This one, though, specialized in old scripture and, as Dev had put it, they might as well start at the beginning. _

_Peter used the time he was reading the texts to discreetly study him. He looked a bit pale, but determined. _

_Again, he hadn’t been surprised in the least by his outburst. It was all too understandable. _

_Peter sighed. Couldn’t it have been anything but memories that were affected?_

* * *

_There were surprisingly few texts about memory, all in all, he reflected. There were so many stories about hope, and love, and even friendship, but so little about what allowed them to tell stories in the first place. _

_“Maybe” Dev suddenly said, proving he had been wondering the same thing, “She doesn’t want people to think about her, so they never remember to do so.”_

_“She?”_

_Dev looked up and blinked. “It – it feels right, doesn’t it?_

_Yes. Yes it did, now that he thought about it. _

_She. _

_Whoever _she_ was. _

_Peter desperately hoped it wold be a nice _she_, and not like…_

_Dev pressed his lips together in a thin line, proving he, too, had thought of someone else. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am going to be honest, my friends: I am in a bit of a state rn. My dissertation isn't going well, to the point I get nothing but criticism, and not constructive one at that, at least not in my opinion, and I have reached the point where I am wondering if it's even worth the effort at this point. Sorry if this impacts negatively on my writing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are following Rusty Cage by imaginationtherapy (which you should because it's wonderful) you will notice some similarities between their last chapter and this one - coincidence, since I have already a good part of this story written in advance. Seems like we both like our Thursday family angst lol.

Jakes returned in the middle of the afternoon – _finally_, Morse thought – and to his surprise DI Thursday didn’t demand an explanation why he’d been gone for so long.

Morse itched to ask without having a reason to do so.

His headache was getting worse and he rubbed his forehead.

* * *

By now, Jim had developed something almost like a sixth sense when it came to scenes like this, and when he saw Jakes open his mouth, immediately guessing that whatever he was about to say would have catastrophic results, he quickly said, “Headache back, matey?”

He nodded, an expression of pain on his face.

Jakes shot him a thankful look, proving that he had indeed been about to ask him how he was doing; and that would probably have been out of character (according to the man who believed his name was Morse and his parents were dead) enough to provoke another attack.

And none of them wanted a repeat of that.

* * *

No, Morse decided later on the same day, he wasn’t being paranoid.

Jakes was watching him (another stab of pain). Whatever the man hoped to gain by it, he couldn’t say – it wasn’t like he had got injured recently or anything like that; his hospital stay had been a whole month ago, something he considered wryly like a personal record.

Another throb.

If this continued, he would have to go see a doctor after all, and he’d never liked doing that. It was bad enough that he still had to go have regular check-ups, which he considered rather pointless, but DI Thursday wouldn’t hear of him skipping them.

He tried to concentrate on his typing. He was rather slow on a good day, and today was decidedly _not_ a good day.

* * *

Fred didn’t have to ask what Jakes had been doing.

It was all too obvious.

He, Win and the children at least had the comfort of knowing that Dev regarded them all with some degree of affection, that he might even consider them friends – cold comfort though it was – but Peter had lost his best friend and superior officer in one fell swoon and was now desperately trying to get him back.

He wasn’t surprised when eventually, he entered his office. “Sir.”

“Peter”. They were alone; he saw no reason to pretend. “Any news?”

He shook his head and despite having believed that he no longer had unrealistic hopes, Fred’s heart sank.

* * *

It was only right that he should tell the Old Man that he was working the case, Peter had decided, but there was no need to let him know the details, not that he had found something from two years ago that for some reason he couldn’t recall.

Hope was the last thing he needed right now.

Oh, Peter was very aware that many thought well of hope. They claimed that it got people through the worst, and perhaps it did; but in Peter’s own experience, hoping for rescue didn’t mean it would eventually come.

And then, he had seen what hope had done to Dev for ten long years. Yes, there had been brief moments where it might have helped, but those had always been followed by it crumbling away to nothing, leaving him lonelier than ever.

Peter should know. He had been there on those nights to put the kettle on and provide the company he needed.

If he had allowed his family to go through the same, Dev would have hated him for it, he was certain.

And so, he only briefly let him know that there had been no significant developments while only thinking of the file he had carefully locked in his desk.

When he came back out of the office, he was relieved to see that Dev’s headache seemed to have gotten slightly better; at least he didn’t look like death warmed over anymore.

He still was far from the happy, content creature he had been the last few months though, ever since the spell had been lifted.

Peter’s throat constricted as he remembered what Healer Hicks had told him and he started to wonder if, after one and a half decades of trying to get home, these few months of happiness would be all that wold ever be bestowed on Dev.

He needed a second opinion.

An there was only one – person (to this day, he didn’t know and never would what he was) who had enough magical knowledge to justify giving one.

He would have to do talk to the Chairman.

* * *

Peter had rarely talked to the Chairman alone. That had always been Dev’s job. Yes, there had been a tense, uncomfortable short conversation a month ago, followed by an announcement at the headquarters, but ever since then, neither of them had sought each other’s company.

That had to change.

With the excuse of making more inquiries, he left to get the file and then repaired directly to the Chairman’s office.

He was in, working on a piece of parchment Peter had no doubt was rather important. He knocked on the open door. “Excuse me, Chairman?”

He looked up. “Ah, Commander. Do come in.”

He went to stand in front of the desk, not caring about sitting down. He knew a chair was usually offered to Dev as a sign of respect, but he wasn’t going to try and make it seem like he wanted to take his place. “I found something that might have to do with what happened” he said, passing him the file. He didn’t have to clarify what he meant.

The Chairman went through it. “So you think the cases are connected?”

“They certainly both have to do with memories, and it would be logical that who is behind this was bolding a grudge”.

He hummed in agreement. “It seems like a logical explanation.”

His usual aloof demeanour had always slightly worried Peter, who was rather used to both his and Dev’s more passionate approach. Now it downright angered him.

How could he, he who had Dev even longer than he had –

Then he looked up and Peter was speechless.

He had never seen pain in his eyes before.

He returned the file. “Do whatever is necessary to bring him home, Commander. I will see if I can find out more.”

He could only nod.

**One month ago**

**It had been three excruciating days. Still no one knew what was wrong with Dev, or whether he would get better. **

**At least Healer Hicks had told them that she’d managed to persuade him to stay in hospital for two additional days, and that so far, there had been no more seizures. **

**Joan had been begging to come and see him the whole time and now she was finally allowed. **

**She had to pretend she was on lunch break from her shift in the bank, but that was a small price to pay to see her big brother. **

**She walked through the corridors, reflecting that Dev had spent way too much time at the hospital and that he never should have ended up here in the first place, especially not now, after everything he’d been through. **

**She knocked and despite everything smiled when she heard his voice bid her enter. **

**Only for her heart to sink when he looked up from his book, exclaimed “Miss Thursday!” and smoothed his hair over, as he was automatically wont to do when he met pretty girl. **

**She could do this. She had to. “Hell, Morse”. How she hated to call him by this name, the name he had been forced to use for fifteen long years while they had all been blissfully unaware of what had happened. **

**He sat up straight. “I – you didn’t have to come.”**

**There was a lump in her throat. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” ** _I prayed, I hoped that you would remember. None of us have slept in the last three days. Dad sat up late every single night, and I know he was waiting to hear you walk down the stairs…_

**“I’m fine, really; no idea why they’re still keeping me in here” he grumbled and for a moment, he sounded just like Dev again, back when they’d been children and Mum had put him to bed because he was feverish. **

**“They probably just want to make sure” she tried. **

**“Yes. Probably.”**

**An awkward silence settled over them. Once, the feeling would have been familiar – but ever since he had come back to them, Dev had picked up his old habit of telling her and Sam everything. **

**She desperately tried to come up with a topic of conversation, one that wouldn’t hurt Dev; her eyes found the book lying on the bedsit. **

**Thomas Hardy’s poems. **

**She snatched it up. “Oh, that’s one of your favourite –“ she was about to prattle on but thankfully glanced at Dev and saw him frown and reach up to rub his forehead. She cleared her throat to distract him. “One of your favourites, is he?” she asked as if she didn’t know.**

**He nodded. “Your mother was so kind as to have it brought to me.”**

Because you wouldn’t have found it in that flat of yours. Last time I saw it was in our living room.

**She asked a question about Hardy instead, and they wiled away the next half hour with dile chit chat. He even handed her the book to check out the poems, as if she couldn’t remember his fourteenth birthday when he’d unpacked it and his eyes had lit up. **

**When she handed him back to him, she looked into his eyes, eyes that were devoid of the easy familiarity, the genuine fondness he held for them all, and wanted to say, ** _When I took my first steps you were holding my hand. I don’t remember it of course but Mum loves to talk about it. You spent months teaching me letters. I refused to learn them at first because I loved you reading to me so much, I still do – sometimes we manage to cajole you into it even now, me and Sam. Remember that?_

**She didn’t. **

**As she walked down the hospital corridor after bidding him a hasty goodbye, not looking at anyone, and trying very much not to let the tears in her eyes fall down her cheeks, she wondered if she was going to lose her older brother for good this time. **

**Having grown up with a bookworm, she knew her fair share of quotes, and one by Tennessee Williams wouldn’t leave her head. **

_Life is all memory. _

**What kind of life did that mean they had led for so long, what kind of life was he leading now?**

**When Mum asked about her visit that evening she quietly told her that it had gone well. **

**Then they went all back to trying to eat dinner while ignoring Dev’s empty seat. **

* * *

**The Chairman came to him. Peter would have been surprised if he didn’t. **

**And so, here he was, three days after Dev’s… three days after. “Can I have a word?”**

**When he asked that question, there was only one answer to give, so Peter nodded and sent Sally, who he’d been conferring with, away. **

**He came straight to the point. “While Captain Thursday is… incapacitated, the responsibility of leading the Guard falls to you, Commander.”**

**“I understand.”**

**“This means that for the time being, you are the cap-“**

**“Commander is quite enough” he interrupted him. He wouldn’t take Dev’s title. He ** _wouldn’t_ **. Come what may, he would stay the loyal commander to his captain. **

**The Chairman studied him with those unblinking eyes of his, but Peter didn’t back down, effectively challenging his authority. It was the first and could potentially be the last time he had done so, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be the captain while their Captain was still around, if incapacitated. **

**Then, finally, the Chairman nodded. “As you wish.”**

**Peter was rather sure this was the very first time he had ever uttered those words to another being. **


	7. Chapter 7

At least the Chairman was involved now too.

It was the best result of the day Peter could come up with.

He had eventually gone home when DI Thursday had sent him there, but was currently pacing his living room, chain smoking cigarette after cigarette.

There had been nights like this before, too many to count. But in the last ten years, he hadn’t been alone. Back we they had shared a flat in London, Dev had invariable woken up, no matter how quiet he’d been, and put the kettle on.

Sometimes they had talked. Sometimes they hadn’t. But they’d always been there to keep each other company.

Even when they had parted ways in a manner because it would have been difficult to explain why two men who pretended not to even like one another where living together, he’d only had to reach for the phone and vice versa.

And now he was alone again in a way he hadn’t been in quite a while.

He’d almost forgotten what it felt like; the closest he’d come to it had been when Dev had disappeared after being locked in jail. But then he’d been too busy trying to fund them to feel what it meant when Dev was gone.

He kicked his coffee table, but it brought him little relief.

The violent urges he’d had in his early twenties, when he had been mad at the world and the past it had forced on him in general, when he’d sometimes picked bar fights just to feel something, were rearing their head again as well.

He had to focus. He had to calm down. He was the Commander of the Guard, not a lonely boy who got to punch someone because he was angry anymore.

He had to get through this for Dev, because if he didn’t, Dev would –

Dev would –

Despite their dangerous jobs (both the police and the Guard, really he wished Dev wasn’t so injury-prone, just like he had countless times before) he had never earnestly contemplated the possibility that he might go before Peter. Dev had simply always been there, and a part of him had childishly believed that he always would be.

_Deteriorating_. Healer Hicks had said he was _deteriorating_, physically _and_ mentally.

And Peter couldn’t even give him comfort because that would make everything worse.

He could feel himself already getting worked up again and lit another cigarette.

Tonight, he would do his outmost to calm down and get a grip already.

And tomorrow, he would save Dev – his captain and his best friend.

* * *

Everyone was quiet during dinner, just like they had been for the entirety of last month.

It was wrong, Win decided, that’s what it was. Ever since Dev had come back, the hat stand rule had given way to the siblings’ closeness, and someone was always talking during dinner now.

She didn’t look at Dev’s empty chair. It hurt too much.

She remembered him sitting in his first high chair so well – his proud smile when he had first succeeded in feeding himself…

Her heart broke a little more as she remembered how thin and pale he looked, these days. And that look in his eyes, as if he felt all alone in the world and didn’t expect that to change any time soon…

Fred seemed to guess what she was thinking and took her hand. When she did her best to smile at him, she realized there were tears in her eyes.

As if she hadn’t cried enough in the last thirty days. Yesterday she’d dusted Dev’s things and broken into sobs when she had reached his copy of Tennyson’s poems.

She was a grown woman, and more than that, her family needed her; she should handle things better than this.

“Peter is working on it” Fred suddenly broke the silence. “I don’t think he’s telling me everything, but he’s working on it.”

Peter. Such a dear lad underneath it all, really, and such a friend to Dev. When this was over, she was most definitely inviting him over for dinner. He’d lost a bit of weight too.

“And what is he working on?” Joan suddenly exploded. “No one tells us anything even though he’s our brother!”

Sam stayed silent, but then he usually was, these days. That was no surprise; he always had been, when something was the matter with his siblings. Win remembered days when she’d stepped out of Joan’s or Dev’s and his room after tending to one of his older siblings who had a fever only to have him stand in the hallway, looking at her with wide big eyes, scared that this time, she couldn’t make them feel better.

“I don’t think it’s that easy, pet –“ Fred began and how she loved him for trying to make sense of what was happening to them, even if it didn’t make any at all to begin with.

“That’s not the point! I have a right to know! None of the Guard members will even meet my eyes, these days!”

And that, Win thought, was quite understandable. She’d come to know most of them in the last few months, and they were all undoubtedly and completely loyal to their captain; and now they didn’t know what to do, how to act. Thankfully most of them were extremely competent, and they had Peter to head the Guard for now.

“I don’t think” she said quietly “It’s easy for them either, Joanie.”

Normally, they would have looked at Dev for guidance, and now Dev wasn’t there. There was only Morse, struggling to get by, convinced that no one cared.

How wrong he was.

How wrong all of this was.

Joan’s shoulders slumped. “I know. I know.”

Sam roused himself to pat her shoulder as she struggled to suppress tears.

Fred squeezed her hand again.

Win took a dee breath.

She could do this. She would do this. For her little boy.

For her Dev.

**Two years ago**

_“How are we ever supposed to catch the person responsible if they can manipulate memories?” Peter asked. “We might even have arrested them before and not be able to remember it.”_

_“No, of that I am absolutely sure” Dev said quietly. _

_Peter didn’t ask how he knew. It was all too obvious what he was thinking of. “Alright. So. Who would have enough power to alter memories like that, but make it so that the people don’ lose anything else?”_

_“Me, perhaps, if I set my mind to it” he replied dryly, “But I can assure you I have an alibi.”_

_That he had indeed; if Peter remembered correctly, he _himself_ was his alibi on at least two occasions. “Alright so you mean rather powerful but not all-powerful.”_

_“If they were there would be no hint that anything whatsoever is wrong.”_

_That was true; there were stories of powerful magic back in the dark ages, when those who went bad had done whatever they wanted. _

_Not that Peter believed them entirely. The magical community was simply a little prone to exaggeration. “Alright. Have you ever heard of any creature with specific memory magic?”_

_In the next moment, he could have punched himself. _

_Dev only smiled, however. “I never said Octavia Stevens had _specific_ memory magic.”_

_Peter had never liked how he pronounced her name. Every time he did, he was reminded that most likely one day, he would have to stop his best friend from doing something rash. _

_Not that he didn’t understand; but acting out had never solved any problems he had ever encountered. He should know. _

_“Alright then. Do you think the Army is behind this?”_

_But Dev was shaking his head. “Granted, they do love to use magic on magic users, but none of them came to really bad harm, which is what the Army is all about. Even I am only still around because they botched it.”_

_“Alright.” A thought occurred to Peter. “There is one thing that doesn’t make sense.”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Why?”_

_“Why what?”_

_“Why go through all that trouble – tamper with someone’s memories after you have robbed them, for example – but...”_

_“Allow them to recall that they were robbed” Dev finishes his sentence, his eyes suddenly sparkling with a new lead. “That’s strange indeed. They shouldn’t want anyone to know if they were a criminal just out to wreak havoc.”_

_“Unless this is a kind of game after all.”_

_“Very funny game that” Dev muttered. “Hilarious. But if they want us to play, there must be breadcrumbs. We should talk to other witnesses – those who were around but not the victim.”_

_“You think they can give us a more accurate description?”_

_“At least I very much hope so.”_

_And off they went. _

_Well, first they repaired to the station; they had to juggle their responsibilities carefully if the didn’t want anyone to get suspicious. _

_They made sure to arrive at different times, for one thing. _

_Peter was the first in, and so he heard Strange say when Dev entered, “Old Man’s been asking for you, matey.”_

_There were times Peter still doubted it had been the right thing for the Chairman to send Dev back to Oxford and make him work alongside his father. Sometimes he could downright see the longing in his eyes, longing for him to remember, to call him son, to drag him back home for family dinner so his family could fuss over him, and it was almost too much to bear. _

_There were days where it was so obvious that he wondered how none of the others had picked up on it. _

_Today was one of the better days, despite or maybe because of them dealing with the memory spell. Perhaps focusing on another one for once had done him good. _

_Or maybe he had just grown so used to hiding it that it didn’t make a difference anymore. _

_Peter wouldn’t ask, but if Dev wanted to talk, he would listen. As he always did. _

* * *

_“Sir?” he asked politely, coming to stand in front of Dad’s desk. “You wanted to see me?”_

_With time it had gotten easier; he had developed a routine_. Don’t act too familiar. Don’t react to Dad mentioning the relatives you grew up playing with. Don’t remember, not when you’re standing in front of him.

_Yes, there were moments, whole days where it felt like almost impossible to keep up the façade, but perversely, whenever he felt like he was about to fail, there was always the spell to take care of things. If he slipped up, they wouldn’t remember in a few minutes’ time. _

_“Yes. There’s a call come in, better check it out…”_

_And he concentrated on work. It made things easier. _

_Really, Peter would much later tell him, someone poisoning someone with a datura plant might have been the one time their case with the police was weirder than their Guard one. _

* * *

_“Are you sure you’re good to work?” Peter demanded and Dev took a deep breath as he tucked his (Peter's; it was far from the first time they had helped each other out with clothing) shirt in his pants. _

_“Have to. With that… monster out there” (Peter would know that he was stalking about the murderer he and Dad were chasing; he’d never have called a creature a monster) “and the memory spell caster, we need all hands on deck.”_

_“Dev, you lost _blood_.”_

_He shrugged. “Not the first time it happened.” And most likely not the last time. Although between the fact that something was affecting people’s memories and trying to figure out the puzzle the killer obsessed with opera left behind, he was left exhausted. _

* * *

_When Dev sheepishly told him he had fallen asleep in his parents’ home, Peter didn’t know what to think. As a matter of fact, he rather supected that if he’d had the time to consider it, he might have believed it to be a bad thing, since not only was he supposed to be thankful that his own father had left him to sleep in their house as a stranger, but he’d been forced to attend family dinner as one, too. _

_(Maybe) perversely though, Dev looked better than he’d seen him in a while. _

_“Really” he even managed to joke, “It’s not as bad as during my final weeks at university, those last few exams were as if I was stuck in the Underworld –“_

_His eyes widened. _

_“Dev?” Peter asked. _

_He stared at him with wide eyes and breathed a single word. _

_“Lethe.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fugue! Fugue! Fugue! Also, I am doing better. Leace c omment if you like^^.


	8. Chapter 8

There was nothing quite as depressive as Dev’s empty office, Peter decided the next day when he went to investigate if perhaps there was something in one of his many notebooks. No matter what case, no matter how much pressed for time, Dev always took notes, probably because police procedure had already been drilled into him when he was just a child – Peter couldn’t count the times Dev had almost slipped up when it came to that in the three years he had been pretending he wasn’t a good police man and he’d had to cover for him.

So if there had been a case, if there was something going on, Dev would have made a note of it, even if he’d forgotten about it later.

Now where could it be…

* * *

As usual these days, the members of the Guard wouldn’t even look at her, but she had grown used to that.

She was a woman on a mission.

Joan swept through the corridors – Sam could look after the accounts for a while – determined to make Peter tell her the truth. She needed to know what was going on, needed to know how Dev was doing, and most of all, she needed to know whether or not there was hope to get her brother back.

Even if she feared she didn’t want to hear the answer.

Peter wasn’t in his office. She was about to leave when she heard noises from next door and realized he was in Dev’s instead.

_Made yourself comfortable, have you?_ she thought, perhaps a tad unkindly.

Dev would have told her off for it.

It was that thought that made her move.

* * *

The last thing he had expected as he went through the desk was Joan to walk through the connecting door. “Peter, we need to talk.”

He had been fearing this development for a while now. Sam was one of those who buried their troubles deep inside themselves; Joan tended to strike out when she felt she had no other options.

“Yes?” he asked, careful to sound as neutral as he could.

“What is the matter with Dev?”

He knew that if he looked at her, he would give in, so he didn’t and instead shuffled a few papers on the desk around without looking at them. “You know.”

“No I don’t. No one tells me the details. I am not a child anymore, you know.”

He still didn’t look at her.

And then suddenly, she grabbed his arm and forced him to finally stare her in the face.

“Am I going to lose my brother, Peter Jakes?”

How much she looked like him at the moment, too.

He couldn’t answer, but he knew she could read it all in his expression.

Her hands dropped away. “_No_. Oh God, no”. Something that sounded like a suppressed sob escaped her. “Peter, _no_. Please.”

She looked back at him, and he realized she wanted him to take her in his arms, comfort her, maybe even kiss her. No; she _believed_ she wanted that.

And it would be a mistake. Because this wasn’t about them; they didn’t see each other that way. They were both only thinking of _him_.

And so, he moved away. “I can’t tell you a thing, I’m afraid. I’m currently trying to find his most secret notebook; he likes to write stuff down –“

“I know that” she said coldly. “_I_ grew up with him, you know.”

His hands balled into fists; he wanted to answer. He wanted to snap back, tell her that he knew the man Dev had become far better than she did.

He didn’t because this wasn’t what Dev would have wanted or expected of him. He loved his sister dearly.

A pause.

Then quietly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to –“

“Yes” he said tiredly “Yes, you did.”

There was no use pretending. She _had_ meant to hurt him, and she had succeeded.

Another pause. Then she quietly said, “I don’t know if it makes a difference, but I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. Sorry I haven’t found a way. Sorry that I can’t do a thing for your bother.”

It was the first time he had openly admitted it.

“That’s not true!” She stepped up to him. “Peter if anyone can bring him back, it’s you. You –“ She swallowed “You know him best. You know his magic. You know how these things work”.

“That may be, but that doesn’t mean I can solve this case on my own.”

“You aren’t on your own. There is the Guard, and the Healers, and you know we would do anything to help him. Just like you.”

He looked at her again then, and nodded.

“I’m sorry” she repeated “I really am.”

She, too, must have been aware that Dev wouldn’t have wanted this for them, so Peter could only assume that her apology was genuine.

“No one should have to go through this” he said quietly.

“No, they shouldn’t” she agreed just as softly.

She then turned to leave – it might be for the best – only to say, just as she crossed the threshold, “And that includes you as well.”

And then she was gone.

Peter sat down heavily at the desk, only for her to return one last time. “Have you tried going through the drawers with no important stuff in it and looking for the most unassuming notebook of them all?” Something like a smile crossed her face. “That was how he used to hide his diary when we were kids.”

And then she was gone again.

It was sound advice, and he did his best to follow it. It sounded like Dev too; and, if he actually did try and hide it, it would explain why they couldn’t remember even better…

There. A completely plain, black notebook, with seemingly empty pages.

Seemingly.

Peter could feel Dev’s magic around it, and didn’t realise how comforting it was to experience it again until he felt something inside him unclench.

He quickly did a reverse spell and was glad to see Dev’s notes appear. He hadn’t thought it necessary to hide anything from him, at least.

He opened it.

**One month ago**

**Fred had insisted on being the one to pick Dev up from the hospital. Win had with a heavy heart decided to stay behind because she didn’t want to cause another seizure, although he could tell it had cost her quite a bit to admit so.**

**Still – him showing up to drive Dev wouldn’t be out of character for the DI who had believed his name was Morse for three years. **

**At least he desperately hoped so.**

**Despite knowing that no change was expected, he was still disappointed when Healer Hicks saw him and quietly shook her head. **

**Dev was already waiting for him, sitting on his bed slightly hunched over in ill-fitting clothes, the way he used to when he had been playing Morse, and it all but broke his heart. “Oy” he said. **

**Dev raised his head. “Good morning, sir. You really didn’t have to –“**

**“It’s no trouble, Morse”. The words tasted like ashes in his mouth. “Doctor said another few days of rest at home, right?”**

**He sighed then reluctantly confirmed, “Yes.”**

**“Alright let’s get you home, then.” Even if it wasn’t his real home; no, that would always be their house where his piano and books and LPs were waiting for him, where he had helped his siblings with their homework, where he had grown up in. **

**But he couldn’t tell him that without causing him to seize up, so Fred simply took the bag out of his hands despite his protests and escorted him out. **

**He was supposed to be a little rough, he knew, and not too familiar with him. **

If you knew, you’d come to me at night so we could talk, son.

**He did his best to appear like the DI he had been to Morse for years but it wasn’t easy. He’d never been the best actor, and this…**

**Thankfully – or perhaps not thankfully, since it spoke of the injuries he’d received, albeit only mental ones for now – Dev seemed too exhausted to care. **

* * *

**It was nice of DI Thursday to pick him up, but it really wasn’t necessary. He could easily have made his own way home; it wasn’t as if there was anything seriously wrong with him. **

**Except that…**

**He somehow had the feeling that something or someone was missing. He couldn’t explain it. **

**That bump on the head must have been rather severe, but he didn’t mention it; otherwise DI Thursday might have turned around and brought him back or, even worse, taken him to his place so Mrs. Thursday would be forced to care for him, and really, she had enough to do. **

**He dimly recalled her visiting him that first day with DI Thursday but not much else. **

**He hoped he hadn’t said the wrong thing or done anything to hurt her. **

**He leaned his head back and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to talk. **

* * *

**Fred couldn’t help it; he kept glancing at Dev, desperately trying to figure out if perhaps the memories were starting to return without hurting him. Certainly, certainly they had to at one point. **

**The problem was that he knew only too well how powerful magic like this could be. He remembered now very clearly that he had recognized Dev that first day on which he had returned to Oxford; and his struggles, off and on, for a whole week, to keep knowing who he was only to fail terribly. **

**And then, seeing him at Blenheim Vale, everything coming rushing back at once. **

**It had all been gone by the time he woke up in hospital, of course. That was how powerful it could be, that was what awaited Dev; only worse because his was also accompanied by physical symptoms, by pain. **

**Win’s face as he had had the attack in the hospital…**

**They needed to fix this, they needed to fix their boy. But if someone like Healer Hicks hadn’t managed to do that, what good could Fred possibly do? He might have leafed through Dev’s textbooks on magic a few times, but that no way made him an expert. And if someone like Peter Jakes, who had been working with it for ten years, or Lieutenant Ford, who was an actual banshee, had no idea what to do, how was he supposed to?**

**They arrived at the small flat Dev had rented. In-between his latest seizure and now, Win and the children had gone through it and removed everything to do with magic or his real life. **

**His wife had cried when she had brought the things home. Fred wasn’t supposed to know, but he had passed by the kitchen and heard her.**

**And indeed, when he brought Dev there, he saw how empty the place looked. Devoid of all the little things that made Dev ** _Dev_ ** – his piano sheets, for one thing, since he enjoyed reading them even when he wasn’t playing – or the small artefacts he’d collected over the course of his magical career. And of course their family pictures were gone too, as were the ones of the Guard and several with Dev and Peter on them. **

**Dev really liked his pictures. **

**Whoever had done this, Fred was going to come after them, he swore to himself. **

**“Anything you need, s- lad?”**

**Thankfully he didn’t notice his slip-up as he heavily sat down on the threadbare sofa and closed his eyes. “No, thank you, sir.”**

**“I’ll put the kettle on before I leave, alright?”**

**Win had put her foot down I taking Dev’s provisions, claiming they could always tell him she had filled up his fridge; and indeed he had accepted the explanation with a sigh when Fred had mentioned it two days ago. **

**“You really don’t have to –“**

**“It’s no trouble. None at all. Now you just relax.”**

**And Fred hurried into the kitchen, lest he do something he would regret. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only just realized this was basically "torture everyone emotionally" time XD. Ah well, hope you're still enjoying this!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am playing about a bit with the chronological events in Fugue in this one - first I felt guilty about it, but then I realized I already put magic into this world, so that's hardly the biggest canon divergence, is it.

Even for Dev, the notes were rather vague. Peter rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. Part of that stemmed from the notes being rather personal (If he was going to have to read “Dad called me _lad_ three times today” again, he was going to – going to – ) and part seemed to be that Dev had obviously not believed that this notebook would ever be read by someone else but him. Peter tried not to feel left out – after all, he knew that Dev trusted him implicitly – but he couldn’t quite help it.

Still, there were some useful things in here.

_Greek mythology_, it said on one page that, if memory served correctly (and sadly, Peter couldn’t say that it did, not on this occasion) must have been written around the time they were working the case he couldn’t quite recall.

Greek mythology?

There was something about that.

It could mean they were dealing with a former God. Or Goddess.

Now, which one of the many options available was in any form responsible for memory…

He was sure he had known at one point. No, he knew he had known at one point. They had after all worked on this old case, and they had solved it, at least he felt sure of that…

Then why did all of this feel like unfinished business, and why had someone felt the need to curse Dev and condemn him to a slow, painful death?

He took a deep breath. Greek mythology. He knew his mythology, if only because he had to. Now, who _would_ be responsible for something like this...

He needed to go and check the books.

And he wasn’t talking about the library or the Guard’s files.

No. This required something else.

This required the volumes Dev had collected over the years.

* * *

His heart felt heavy as he walked up to the Thursdays’ front door. He had been here countless times, both before the spell was lifted and after; and for the first time, he felt like there was something desolate about the place, as if the house itself was mourning what was missing.

It wasn’t true, of course, but that didn’t change a thing.

Mrs. Thursday opened the door to him and, as always, greeted him kindly. “Peter! What can I do for you?”

“There’s something I have to check, Mrs. Thursday. In Dev’s books”.

He had helped her carry them into his and Sam’s room when they had needed to get everything out of Dev’s place, and it was clear that she remembered too as she nodded. “Of course. Do come in.”

Ad so he walked up the stairs, pretending to himself and to her that Mrs. Thursday wasn’t in the kitchen at the verge of tears right now. But who wouldn’t have been?

The books were in alphabetical order, of course. Peter had made sure of that. Dev would never have forgiven him if they were not.

Now, where was…

Ah. There.

_Dictionary of Mythology. _

He gently picked it up and wondered how Endeavour Morse, as he believed himself to be, explained the lack of certain volumes in his personal library.

But then nothing about this made any kind of sense, so he could only hope that this did indeed hold the answers.

He leafed through it, smiling at seeing Dev having added noes to several of the entries. Normally he would never have done so, but being the Captain of the Guard, this was a manual rather than a normal book, so he had had to do so.

He didn’t quite know what to make of them.

_Lethe. River of forgetfulness the souls drank out of upon entering Elysium. This deleted their memories of everything the had been through. _

That sounded about right, didn’t it?

Next to it Dev had written _Much more unpleasant in person. _

Not a lot of information there.

Well… except for one.

Whenever Dev used such short, concise language, especially when it had to do with a case, it was usually to hide strong emotions.

What emotion, that was the question.

Fear? Peter had only ever known him to be afraid for others, not for himself – and of never getting his family back (don’t think about it don’t think about it).

Anger? He was much too professional for that.

Maybe, he thought suddenly with the instincts of someone who had known someone else for a long time and could usually predict how they would react in certain situations, it was pity.

It would be to ask a lot of someone suffering under memory magic for so long to feel sorry for Lethe of all people, but this was Dev. If anyone could pull it off…

The entry for Lethe had been at the bottom of the page, and only now did Peter realize Dev had marked it to show there was some more information on the next.

He turned it around and read in Dev’s handwriting, _cont. Dealt with._

Dealt with? Didn’t bloody seem so to Peter, but what did he know – neither of them had much experience dealing with personifications of abstract concepts created by the Old Greeks.

He might have considered this a strange statement if he had lived any other life.

So what was he supposed to do, he wondered. If the woman they had seen had been Lethe, then she was back. And what had she said again?

_“Why don’t I show you how it felt?”_

She was out for vengeance.

He had to do something, and fast.

In his desperation, he thought of ancient temples and priests. That had been a way to communicate with gods, right? Sacrifices et cetera?

He had no way of knowing that this was exactly the kind of dangerous plan he’d already kept Dev from embarking on once.

**Two years ago**

_“Lethe?” he asked. He couldn’t’ have been par of the magical community for long before hearing about mythology, of course; but what this had to do with anything…_

_“It was Offenbach who made me realize. When I said Underworld, I thought about his take on Orpheus, you see…” If anyone else had sad those words, he would have considered them rather crazy, but this was Dev, and if a long-dead composer had inspired him, so be it. _

_“What?” he asked, discreetly moving so he was standing in front of the door. If there was one thing they didn’t need, it was someone barging in to hear them discussing magic. He had learned his fair share of facts about music, of course; it was impossible to live without Dev and not do so; but this didn’t mean he automatically leaped to whatever conclusion he came to. _

_“Offenbach – Orfée aux enfers . The waters of Lethe.”_

_Even knowing him well, it took a moment for him to recall and the penny to drop. “Wait – are you saying we are dealing with _Lethe_? Wasn’t Lethe a river?”_

_“Yes, but you know as well as me that if there is an occult force, people are going to make sure there is a person representing it.”_

_That was true, of course; ever since they had been friends, Dev had dragged him through his fair share of exhibitions, so that Peter was well aware of the statures and temples people had erected for those they thought were responsible for their fate. But still…_

_“Peter, I can feel it in my bones” he told him, his eyes shining with lack of sleep, and he wondered how he could possibly make him get some rest, because battling an ancient deity was one thing, but that didn’t mean that Dev should have to forgo his rest, especially because Peter could already tell that sooner rather than later, a little blood would leak through and right into his shirt. He didn’t mind, but only because this was his captain they were talking about. _

_“Trust me on this” he added. _

_He didn’t understand, but then, with magic, understanding wasn’t always the goal. Instinct was as much part of it as knowledge; you could only learn so much through books, and Dev had the advantage of him, since his magic had made itself known at an early age, while Peter’s had only come through after he’d been told he had it in the first place. Their upbringing might well have something to do with that, although Dev was not a person who would ever allude to someone like that in the first place. _

_“Alright, an ancient God. What do we do about them?”_

_Dev had been lost in thought and blinked at him. “Sorry?”_

_Good God, they would need all the divine intervention they cold get to make sure he didn’t keel over. “What you were just saying –“_

_“Right, right” Dev gave him a slightly maniacal grin that did nothing to elevate his worries, especially because they still had to find Debbie Snow as well. “If we assume Lethe is a person, and let’s say this has to with her very own powers – let’s say this isn’t about the crimes, but maybe she is furious at having been forgotten –“_

_“But isn’t forgetting kind of her thing?” he asked, remembering just in time. _

_“Yes, but making people forget is quite a different thing from being forgotten oneself, wouldn’t you say?” Dev asked brightly ad that in itself was cause for worry Dev never looked chipper when talking about someone’s memory being affected – _never_. And with good reason. He had worked himself in such a state that he didn’t realize. _

_And Peter was in no position to help him, not while they were working the case in the human world was well. If this had been strictly a Guard’s case, he would have had a strict word with him; but here, the Old Man was responsible for them, and most importantly, for Dev, and Peter wasn’t close enough to him to give him a hint that Dev should be looked after. _

_“I guess so” he agreed for lack of anything else to do. He could hardy tell his superior officer and fried that he considered him incapable of working any case at all now, could he. _

_Well, not right now, at least. The second he grew incoherent, it was Peter’s duty to relieve him. Dev would never forgive him if he didn’t, he was sure. _

_“So what do we do now?” he asked. _

_“There were sacrifices for every God and Goddess who could possibly be conceived in the Ancient World” Dev answered, “So we have a way to communicate with her…”_

_“Dev…” Alright, now he was _definitely_ suffering from lack of sleep. He couldn’t just honestly have suggested that they just did an old-style sacrifice of a lamb. _

_“I…” he blinked. “What was I saying again?”_

_Alright, that was it. He was having a word with the Old Man. _

_And then Strange knocked on the door and they were off to save Debbie Snow and find who they supposed to be Daniel Cronyn’s body. _

* * *

_Thankfully, the next morning the Old Man put his foot down and all but ordered Dev to stay at home and rest until lunch time. _

_And when he saw him then, his best friend’s mind was much clearer than it been. _

_He shook his head at himself. “I was actually trying to do a summoning using a lamb.”_

_“Don’t worry I wouldn’t have let you.”_

_“You wouldn’t, would you” he smiled at him. Then his eyes widened. “Keith Miller.”_

_And he stormed off towards the squad room. _

_“What? Dev, wait –“_

* * *

_When all was said and done and Mason Gull was booked, Peter went home and made tea, feeling rather confident that Dev would show up sooner or later. _

_He did, but just from his expression Peter could tell that he was here on business. _

_“How did he do it?”_

_“How did who –“_

_“Mason Gull. Kind of a lot to make people forget about, his illness that led him to kill his mother, and therefore believing him cured, hm?”_

_Peter immediately knew where he was going with this. “We need to speak to him.” He grabbed his coat. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, please^^?


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is an animal sacrifice in this chapter. It's painless and quick and the animal doesn't suffer unduly, but it is there. In case you wish to skip it, just go to the One Month Ago part, which is perfectly safe to read. I will summarize what happened in the Now part of the story at the end of this chapter so everyone can be comfortable.

Like so many other professions, there was a magical farming community, mostly to help those creatures who preferred to eat raw meat and/or drink blood to get supplies without anyone asking too many questions.

Peter had met Francis Astor about a year ago during a case and he immediately welcomed him into his house. “Commander! It’s been a while”. He lowered his voice. “I am very sorry about what I hear about the Captain.”

“That’s why I’m here actually” Peter immediately jumped into the conversation. He couldn’t afford to lose more time. “You see, I find myself rather in need of an animal…”

* * *

Mr Astor had been nothing if not accommodating, although his easy acquiescence told Peter that he probably made more money selling to creatures than his modest house let on. Oh well. They all had to find money somehow, and he knew for a fact that he paid his taxes – they’d seen the paperwork during the case where they had met.

He looked down at the goat and swallowed. He hadn’t killed often, although, regrettably, it had been necessary three times – killers who wouldn’t allowed themselves to get caught.

One of them had almost got Dev.

He balled his hands into fists. He hadn’t allowed anything to harm him then, he wouldn’t start doing it now.

Time to get this over with.

* * *

Peter hadn’t been at the Temple nearly as often as Dev, for the simple reason that they had considered it enough when their highest-ranking officer represented the Guard during important holidays, and the Chairman, if he wanted any company at all, preferred Dev’s anyway.

Still, he was reasonably well-know that the priests raised as little objection as Mr. Astor had.

And so, hew as soon left alone in a small room with an altar, the goat, several supplied and a strong knife. 

It wasn’t all quite perfect, of course, but he wouldn’t risk doing this outside after a procession. Plus, he figured, if this was a deity, then they probably weren’t used to getting any sacrifices anymore, so they’d probably accept this.

He had the barley corn, though, and he’d made sure the goat had a good meal because this wasn’t about cruelty, he knew that much. The animals were supposed to die quickly and while they were happy. That’s how the ancient Greeks had done it, so he would do the same.

Even if he didn’t have much practice cutting any throats.

Still, he hid the knife from the goat until it was time, then muttered “Sorry” right before doing so in one smooth notion, directing the blood towards where it was supposed to flow. A she did so, he prayed – he supposed it didn’t matter in what language; after all, she, the one who had done this to Dev (his grip on the knife tightened) had spoken English as well.

He stayed for about an hour after that, but nothing happened.

Had he done it wrong? Maybe Lethe had never been in the habit of answering prayers?

Maybe she had forgotten. Hah. That would have made Dev smile. Not helpful, though.

Alright. Summoning them by sacrifice had failed.

But that didn’t mean he was going to give up.

After all, they had already had one case with memories being involved.

Now, if he could just remember…

* * *

Fred was starting to worry about Jakes. In the beginning, most of his thoughts had understandably centred on Dev, and still continued to do so; but not only was Jakes’ continuous absence sure to be noticed eventually (especially by Dev, and God knew what that could lead to) but he was sure to work himself into the grave if he continued like that.

He was, after all, trying to lead the Guard and replace – well, temporarily replace – Dev in every aspect while at the same time still being the sergeant he needed and look after his boy… and he had no one in turn to look after him.

Fred had rather the feeling that that was usually Dev’s job. He had yet to completely understand the relationship between his son and Peter Jakes, but he knew it ran deep, and that Peter must undoubtedly be missing Dev a good deal.

He probably was the person who knew him best, these days.

He’d have a stern talk with him when he finally emerged from wherever he had buried himself away now, that was for sure.

* * *

Peter was just done cleaning up when there was a knock on the door. “Yes?”

Brother Gabriel emerged. Peter didn’t know him well, simply from not often going to the Temple and being genuinely not interested in religion (he’d once told Dev, in one of those conversations they would never repeat to another human being, that he was rather certain what he went through as a child made him incapable of believing) but had the impression that he was an earnest, friendly man who meant well. “Sorry, Commander, but Lieutenant Ford called and let you know you’re needed at headquarters”.

“How did she know –“ he began before he could stop himself.

Brother Gabriel stepped up to him. “There have always been Guard members who came here to pray, ever since it was re-established. But these days… in the last month, most of them have shown up, some just once, some regularly.”

Oh. They had been praying for Dev.

Talking suddenly seemed very difficult, but he was the Commander of the Guard, so he cleaned his throat and said, “I see.”

Brother Gabriel’s hand came to lie on his forearm. “And they have not been the only ones, Commander. Captain Thursday is a very well-known and well-liked figured in our community. Everyone’s worried about him, with very few exceptions.”

Yes, of course. Peter hardly supposed those who Dev had arrested were praying for him.

Brother Gabriel paused for a moment then continued, “And, if I may be so blunt and take the liberty, but… he’s not the only one people are worried about it. Take care, Commander.”

And before Peter could reply, he had disappeared.

He took a deep breath.

Time to go to headquarters and see what the others wanted.

**One month ago**

**It was Dev’s first day back on the job… at Crowley station. He wasn’t going back to the Guard of course, because he didn’t remember it existed and it would actively harm him to learn about it. **

**Peter had done his best over the last few days to carefully practice the façade he would have to show him. **

**In a way, they had acted that way for three years, so it shouldn’t have been too difficult; but Dev had been in on it, and at times it had seemed almost like a game the two of them were playing. **

**Now? Now one of the players no longer remembered the rules, or that they were playing in the first place. **

**It also didn’t help that he was already nervous because he and Dev hadn’t spoken in a while. For the life of him he couldn’t recall the last day when they hadn’t at least talked to each other on the phone, both before and after the spell had been lifted. **

**When had he become so independent on him, anyway?**

**That was easily enough answered. When Dev had given him a life instead of that poor existence he’d somehow been holding unto when a vampire attacked him. **

**Alright. Dev and the Old Man would be here any second. **

**“Want to go check out the evidence locker?”**

**He looked up at Strange and frowned. “What?”**

**“Or you could be pursuing inquiries” he continued and, touched, Peter realized that it was his version of subtly telling him if he didn’t want to face this, he didn’t have to.**

**“Thank you but I’d rather stay.” It was true too – the one thing that would have been worse than seeing Dev like this would be ** _not_ ** seeing Dev at all. **

**Strange nodded. **

**And, indeed, a few minutes later, the door opened and DI Thursday stepped through, followed by Dev with his shoulders hunched and a rather empty expression. **

**Peter swallowed. “Sir.” He forced himself to pause. “Morse”.**

**DI Thursday at least returned his greeting, while Dev only nodded in his general direction and then said, “Strange, Trewlove.”**

**Peter’s heart sank. He knew they had been playing it up a bit, the whole ** _You occupy what should be **my** position and it makes me angry _ **schtick – it had seemed the right thing at the time. **

**Of course it was now coming back to haunt them. Of course. **

**Still, by mid-morning Peter believed he had everything under control. **

**And then he made a mistake. **

**He simply wasn’t thinking. Ever since the station had learned the truth, whenever he made tea, he made one for Dev too. **

**And so he’d put it down in front of him before he’d even had the chance to realize. **

**Dev blinked up at him, confused. **

**“Two sugars, a splash of milk” he said automatically. “Tidy you over until lunch.”**

**He tried to smile at him reassuringly, but to his horror, Dev’s face scrunched up and he fell out of his seat. **

**“Dev!”**

**He was seizing up again, and this time, with no one in the immediate vicinity, Peter did the only thing he could. **

**He hadn’t been prepared for the pain being this bad, however. **

**The last thing that went through his mind before he lost consciousness was ** _This is all my fault_ **. **

**He woke up with a wet cloth on his face and quickly tried to sit up, only for Thursday to put a hand on his shoulder and an order to “Take it easy, Sergeant.”**

**“Dev…” he began. **

**“He’s doing fine. Doesn’t even remember his seizure. You, on the other hand… I ** _told_ ** you…”**

**“It ** _was_ ** my fault!” he exclaimed, snatching the cloth of his face and sitting up despite Thursday trying to keep him down. “If I hadn’t brought him the tea…”**

**“You were just trying to be nice to him.”**

**“Exactly. And that is enough to bring on another attack” he said bitterly. “He doesn’t think of me as a friend. I don’t… I don’t think he even ** _likes_ ** me.” Saying it out loud hurt more than he would have thought. **

**“It’s not you. It’s… whatever did this to him” Fred tried and Peter wondered if he had felt like this when Peter himself had tried to comfort him after he had remembered that last time. **

**If so, he had done precious little to ease his pain. **

**“It was just tea” he said, looking anywhere but at Dev’s father. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”**

**“I dare so none of us have done a lot of that in the last few days” he said bluntly. “Don’t worry about it. For now, he seems to be doing well.”**

**Not well enough, Peter thought. Not until this was over and they had him back. **

**“Now, you stay here and rest. That’s an order”. **

**He sighed and resigned himself to stay at least for half an hour just so Thursday would be placated. **

* * *

**Fred should have known something like this would happen. Dev and Peter had their own little rituals, their habits, and it had perhaps been a bit much to ask that Peter would immediately return to the act he had kept up for three years before they had defeated the Army. **

**Still, seeing his son once more on the floor, with his unconscious best friend next to him…**

**Strange had been frantic. Trewlove was the one who had informed him about what must have happened. **

**Damn it, he couldn’t afford to be short of two good officers, and he firmly believed the same could be said for the Guard. **

**Yes, it was best if Peter rested for a bit, just so he could get his strength back. **

**God knew he would need it. **

**So he quickly informed the squad room that Jakes was going through a few files in his office. **

**Dev barely even reacted. **

**Fred studied him worriedly. ** _We’ll fix this, son_ **, he vowed. ** _We’ll fix this._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Peter went to a Temple and sacrificed a goat to try and contact Lethe, but failed. He is now being called to the headquarters of the Guard.


	11. Chapter 11

When he reached the headquarters, Sally hurried towards as usual, but unlike the other day, she looked relieved more than anything. He really should have told her where he was going, he thought rather guiltily. Or anyone, for that matter.

“Sir.”

“Sally. I got your message.”

“I figured it would reach you sooner rather than later.”

It was only then that he understood she hadn’t just called the Temple. She must have reached out to half of Oxford if she wanted to make sure.

She was biting her lip. “We know we’re supposed to ensure everything runs smoothly, sir, but the thing is, we are all worried for Captain Thursday, and so we’ve been… working the case. In our spare time, of course, in shifts, so to speak, sir.”

Peter knew well enough that most of them excessively used the word _sir_ when they were worried or nervous, so he simply nodded.

“It’s just – please use us, sir. We are all eager to help, and we can’t risk the Guard becoming leaderless like this.”

She was right, of course; he couldn’t neglect his duties. He couldn’t.

He took a deep breath and made a decision. “Alright, then. Better show me what you got.”

* * *

They had amassed an impressive amount of information on the blackboard. He wasn’t surprised that it seemed to be Sally, Haddon and Foster who had started it all and were the obvious leaders; they were their finest officers after all, and there had been a reason why Dev had chosen them to go after the Army alongside them.

“Now, this is tricky” Haddon said, “Because none of us have really that much experience when it comes to mind-influencing. Sally can mostly feel things connected with Dev, and _technically_ vampires could ensnare…”

“Which I never do because I am a good vampire” Foster hastened to say. “And that’s something quite different.”

“But” Sally announced “We all have excessively studied memory spells and hexes over the years.”

Peter frowned, wondering why they would have done something like that, and then the penny dropped.

Oh. They had been looking to help Dev in their own time.

He allowed himself to smile warmly at them. “So what can you tell me?”

“Well, it’s not the same thing as the spell Octavia Stevens used” Sally said, “Since it only affects the person who was hexed and no one else. In fact, in many ways, it can be said to be the polar opposite, since he now believes he’s lived the life he showed the outside world while the spell was active.”

While Peter knew all this, he also knew well enough that repeating facts was never a mistake, so he listened.

“But” Haddon remarked, “There is more. There are some creatures who have more powers over the minds of others than… well, other creatures; and we can count out the less powerful ones because their magic would have been no match to the Captain’s. According to your statement, he didn’t manage to pit up any resistance at all, and that is unusual when it comes to him.”

“It was a surprise attack though.”

“Still” she insisted. “All due respect sir, but do you really think Captain Thursday would just keel over?”

No. No he wouldn’t. Plus, his father and Peter had been in the room; he would have fought because of that reason alone, the years having strengthened his protectiveness of all those he cared for.

“Go on” he said.

“So” she said, “We can probably rule out pixies, wraiths and shadow demons. I am inclined to think mavkas as well…”

“Some of them can be pretty powerful, though” Haddon interrupted her.

“Yes, but most of their bloodlines have been deluded. There hasn’t been an incident involving any in over fifty years!”

Peter realized this was an old argument and did his best to defuse the tension, doing what he thought Dev would have done. “I say we don’t actively pursue that line of inquiry but keep our ears and minds open just in case.”

That seemed to satisfy them both.

“There is another possibility” he continued “That I checked personally this afternoon.”

And he told them about the sacrifice.

When he had finished, Sally was struggling to keep her disapproval out of her expression and voice as she said, “That was very dangerous, Commander.”

She meant in fact _reckless_, as Peter knew.

Yes, it had been reckless, and in the familiar, plain headquarters of the Guard, he could only come to the conclusion that he had allowed himself to be, that he’d been swept away with his worries for Dev.

“Yes” he agreed. “I shouldn’t have done that, especially not on my own. But the damage is done, and nothing happened, anyway.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but knew better.

“So it probably isn’t Lethe” Peter concluded, “Or if it is, she’s not answering. And I am rather sure I did the sacrifice correctly”. He had after all looked it up in Dev’s own books, and Dev would never allow a misinformation to stand uncorrected, not when it came to someone endangering himself through it.

“But what if…” Foster had spoken, studying the blackboard.

“Yes?” Peter encouraged him.

“Well, sir, I think that you were perhaps on the right track, just… on the wrong side.”

“The wrong side?” he frowned.

Sally caught on. “But of course! After all, the Captain’s memories weren’t deleted, or he wouldn’t react the way he does whenever something familiar presents itself! So his memories weren’t taken away –“

“He was given new ones” Peter finished. “And we didn’t realize because we had all grown so accustomed to those lies it only seemed natural he should believe them.”

“Exactly, but all of that never happened, did it?”

Peter shook his head. “So we are looking for someone like Lethe, but working _with_ memories rather than taking them away…”

**Two years ago**

_“I never even realized he had magic” Dev told him a little sadly as they made their way to Gull’s holding cell. They had both pretended to have something to do for lunch hour, then snuck back in via hex bags. _

_“You wouldn’t have been looking for it”. And neither had Peter. “Plus, he can’t be that strong – we would never have caught him otherwise. Has to know he’s no match for you.”_

_“Or you”. _

_Peter waved the compliment away. He was well aware that Dev was more powerful than he ever would be, and he was fine with that. _

_Quite frankly, he would have been a little worried about the bond between their magic if he had been able to do as much as Dev. _

_And so they went to the cell. _

_Gull was standing, as if he had been waiting for them. His eyes slid over Peter and then focused on Dev, like they had from the beginning._

_They quickly learned the reason. “Mr. Thursday.”_

_He felt Dev stiffen next to him but his voice sounded even as he replied, “That is Captain Thursday for you.”_

_“But it isn’t, is it? It’s Morse.”_

_It wasn’t as much of a surprise that he knew than he had probably hoped for. After all, even with Dev never openly speaking about the spell except to Peter and the Council, rumours abounded in the magical community; Peter knew for a fact that the other members of the Guard were aware of it and had been for quite some time. _

_“Told you I knew who you couldn’t save. Endeavour Thursday, the beloved oldest son.”_

_“If there is anything you’d like to tell us, Mr. Gull…”_

_“I rather think you are here to ask me questions, aren’t you?”_

_Peter resisted the urge to reach through the bars and… well… but only just. Thankfully the Old Man wasn’t here or they would probably have had to restrain him. That smug smile…_

_“Indeed. You see, Mr. Gull, it is entirely possible a crime using magic has been committed.”_

_“Oh? What crime?”_

_“It is highly improbable that you would have convinced every doctor you came across that you were healed without magic. After all, you did make a list of who to take vengeance on, didn’t you?”_

_“I’m a very good actor.”_

_“Not that good or you wouldn’t be sitting in a cell now, would you – and DI Thursday wouldn’t be alive.”_

_At least that wiped the smile off his face. _

_“It seems to me” Dev quietly said, “That you must have had help, to make the doctors forget their objection. You must have harnessed the power from somewhere.”_

_“I am quite –“_

_Dev simply raised a hand and Gull staggered back. “What did you –“ he hissed. _

_“I just brought down your own protections” he said simply, “and it was far from difficult. As a matter of fact, it was very easy. I didn’t even have to say the words out loud.”_

_Ah, so that was why neither of them had ever felt the slightest twinge of magic from him. He had cloaked himself, probably because he knew he could do nothing against Dev. _

_There was a hint of satisfaction in his friend’s eyes now, and Peter knew they were going to win. _

_“So here is what is going to happen, Mr. Gull. You will kindly answer our questions and in return, I will simply make sure that you cannot use our magic to escape again.”_

_“And what if I don’t?” he challenged him. _

_“Then, Mr. Gull, I must sadly conclude that you are a danger to both magic and non-magic users alike, and I will have no choice but to recommend to the Council that your powers, weak as they may be, should be constrained permanently to prevent a repeat of your crimes.”_

_Gull’s eyes widened; Peter hoped he himself was able to make a straight face. While yes, Dev could put in such a request, it would have been highly unlikely that the Council would approve. First if all, the practice was mostly used on those whose powers were strong enough to cause serious damage, and second of all, it was a last, desperate measure since it almost always drove the recipient mad. He idly wondered if that meant Gull would have become sane. _

_“Are you threatening me!?” he asked._

_“Yes” Dev said simply,_

_“You – you aren’t allowed to do that! That’s against both magical and non-magical laws…”_

_“Is it now?” Dev turned to Peter. “Who would a jury believe, Commander – us or a convicted murderer?”_

_“I think us, sir.”_

_Peter well knew that Dev would never have stooped so low id Gull hadn’t tried to kill his father, but there was nothing he could do about it now. They needed the information. He’d talk with him later. _

_“You know, I rather think so, too.” He turned to Gull. “So, tell us how you made contact with Lethe.”_

_Them knowing what had happened was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Gull considered himself so clever that he thought no one would ever guess and he paled. “I don’t know what you –“_

_“Lethe, Mr. Gull. Forgetfulness personified. A river in the Underworld. Woman-shaped these days, I assume, since humans love anthropomorphised gods. So, would you kindly tell us?”_

_He balled his hands into fists then forced himself to speak. “There is a ritual. She has to do what you want, then.”_

_“I see. Any other way?”_

_Of course Dev didn’t want to exercise control over someone else when he could help it. _

_Now Gull gave him a contemptuous look, but since he was clearly still scared for his powers it wasn’t very intimidating. “Well, you can always try the old quarters of town, scry for something like her. I know for a fact she likes to keep hidden there.”_

_“Thank you for your help with our investigation, Mr. Gull.” And Dev turned to go._

_“Wait!” _

_Deva paused but didn’t turn back around. _

_“I told you so you won’t make the request, right?”_

_“I keep my word, Mr. Gull” he replied matter-of-factly. _

_Then he glanced at Peter, who understood immediately. _

_Seemed like they were going to go hunt for her tonight. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to add more of the Guard.


	12. Chapter 12

The talk Fred had wanted to have with Jakes got postponed, because, well… he simply didn’t show up again. Trewlove did a good enough impression of having got a phone call while Dev wasn’t in the squad room (and thank God for that; Fred wouldn’t have trusted Strange to pretend well enough; oh, he was a good copper, no doubt about it, but he wasn’t the best actor) that he didn’t think too much about it, and that was the best they could have hoped for.

When Dev returned, Fred studied him once more, and he didn’t like what he saw one bit.

One of the best things about learning that he was the Captain of a magical police force – at least until he had learned who Dev truly was – had been that – that Morse was actually _taking care_ of himself, or at least allowing other people to do so. His suits (the suits Win had hung up so carefully in his and Sam’s closet a few weeks ago, claiming “They’ll only be there for a short time”) were well-pressed and pristine, he actually knew how to tuck his shirt in, he was careful to remember when to eat and drink something usually (and all of these things, Fred now knew, were due to Win’s and his careful upbringing – well maybe not _all_ of them, but a father had his pride). And now…

Now.

God, he was worried. He was worried sick. And Win was doing no better. She still cooked way too much food, in preparation for Dev and whatever member of the Guards who happened to drop by to be there; she still dusted his piano with reverence every day; and she still glanced behind Fred when he came home, just in case their son was returning to where he belonged…

And there was precious little comfort he could give her, or anyone, for that matter.

There were days when he felt like he was drowning, and today was definitely one of them.

It also didn’t help that he’d noticed something.

Before… all of this, Doctor DeBryn had developed the habit of popping into the squad room even more than formally, since he was very interested in the works of the Guard and had quickly become rather good friends with both Dev and Peter once he had learned the truth.

Now, though?

They were lucky if they saw him once a week, if at all.

He could have attributed this to the fact that it was difficult for them all to look at Dev and see Morse; but he had the bad feeling there was more to it than that.

And so, in the late afternoon, he dragged him down in the morgue.

He was busy with a file but immediately turned around when he heard his footsteps. “Ah. Inspector Thursday. How may I help you –“

“A word, Doctor?”

He wrung his hands – a sure sign that he was worried. “I am afraid I a rather busy at the –“

“It’s getting worse, isn’t it? _He’s_ getting worse.” There was no reason to clarify who he was.

Doctor DeBryn wasn’t looking at him, which all but confirmed his fears. “Since I am not a Healer, I am in no position to -.”

“An educated guess then, Doctor.”

Finally their eyes met and DeBryn flinched as he saw Fred’s expression. Then, he began to clean one of the slabs, carefully choosing his words.

“Like I said, not only am I not one of the consulting physicians, I know precious little of magic and healing in the first place. But, if I have to… I am afraid that his condition is… not as good as it could be. He should gain some weight, for one thing, and I strongly suspect he’s not sleeping enough, either. His spirits seem rather low, too.”

Silence settled over them. Then, Fred said quietly, “That’s not all, is it.”

He was still sweeping the slab with even, precise movements. “No. I – I would say – and this is just my guess, Inspector, please remember that – that whatever happened to him is… weakening him as well.”

_Weakening_. Fred felt fear grip his heart. “How much?” he demanded. “Weakening him how –“

Doctor DeBryn straightened himself up and looked him right in the eye. “Inspector” he said slowly, “It is not that I couldn’t answer you – but I have come to know Dev as well as I think I possibly could in the last few months, and – for fifteen years, he worked so you and your family wouldn’t be hurt, would be protected. I will not do him the dishonour of hurting you _now_.”

It was as good an answer as if he could have given him if he had just spoken the words out loud and clear.

To be honest, he rather believed it would have hurt less, then.

Maybe one day, Fred would be thankful, but right now, he could have slapped the man.

“And now you have to excuse me, Inspector” he said, so gently that his anger evaporated.

* * *

He couldn’t tell Win. He _couldn’t_. If he did, she would be desperate, trying to care for Dev, and that would hasten –

That would hasten –

_I am going to lose my son. I am going to lose my son, and this time, permanently_. The words pounded behind his eyes, in his head, in his heart.

A few months. That was all they would get for fifteen long years in which Endeavour had suffered.

Dev was going to die, and there was noting they could do. The Healers were stumped. Jakes had had no success, neither alone nor with the other members of the Guard.

_And Dev was dying. _

He remembered back in the tranches, when he’d looked at the picture Win had sent and wondered if he would ever feel a true connection to the boy.

_Oh God. Oh God, Dev. Please. Someone help. Someone. I don’t care. I will do anything. Just save my son. Save my Endeavour. _

**One month ago**

**“Everyone ready?” he asked, praying to all the gods that he could think of that this would be the only time he had to do so. **

**Three blank faces stared at him – blank because they didn’t want him to know they were suffering, as if that was even an option – then nodded. **

**Peter hadn’t wanted this. Had all but insisted that he should be the one to pick Fred up in the morning; he’d even come to see them last night in order to convince them, but Win had gently said, “I need to see my son, Commander” and that had been that. **

**And so here they were. **

**“Now, remember –“**

**“We know, Dad.”**

**Sam had said so little in the last few days that those few words immediately caught everyone’s attention and Fred swallowed whatever caution he had wanted to impart. **

**The doorbell rang out. He took a deep breath. “Alright. Here we are, then.”**

**It was Joan who went to open it. “Joanie –“**

**“It would be strange if I didn’t.”**

**She was right, of course, but that didn’t make watching Dev shuffle into his own home like he didn’t belong. “Good morning, Miss Thursday.”**

**Joan was a good actress. She didn’t flinch; she didn’t look disgusted; she simply answered, rather quietly, “Hello, Morse”. **

**“Morse” he hastened to step in. “Everything alright?”**

**“Yes, thank you, sir. No news from the station.”**

**And none from the Guard either, although Dev couldn’t know that. Peter would have called them if something big had happened. If there had been any news, if a solution had been found. **

**He cleared his throat. “Let’s go, then.”**

**It was almost too much to watch Win all but physically restrain herself from hugging their boy and giving him a sandwich.**

**Sam came to the rescue, making awkward small stalk (** _It shouldn’t be awkward, dear God, he was the one who taught Sam to speak more or less in the first place, make it stop_ **) while Win and Joan bustled around in the kitchen. **

**The silence in the car felt deafening to Fred. He and Dev – they had always so easily found topics of conversation. Always. Practically ever since he had returned from the war, even if back then their talks had centred around Pooh Bear and Christopher Robbin. **

**Now, though?**

**Dev didn’t think it strange in any way, of course. He was nothing but his superior officer in his eyes now. **

**A small part of Fred, the part that hated himself for the things he had seen and done in his life, especially during the war, insisted that this was only fair. His boy had lived through fifteen years of this, and here he was, on the breaking point after a few days. **

**He had to be careful, however. He couldn’t risk a car crash.**

**And they would get him back. Somehow. He had sworn it to himself and Win and the kiddies. **

* * *

**He thought they were struggling through alright until Peter brought Dev a cup of tea in the afternoon. It was an honest mistake to make, and yet he had to fight down a wave of fury as he dragged the unconscious sergeant to his office to rest. **

**But as he laid him down on the sofa, he couldn’t help but feel regret at that. **

_He is Dev’s friend. Hell, for years he probably was his only real one, the one who looked after him. He was just trying to do that again. Dev wouldn’t want you to blame him. _

**It was that last thought that made him get a cold cloth to put on Peter’s forehead. **

**And he’d taken Dev’s pain, too. Fred had managed to stop him when this had first begun, but of course, with no one in the immediate vicinity…**

**He went to check up on Dev, not only because he was his father, but because he strongly suspected that Peter would have been the first to ask him to do so. **

**He was already sitting at his desk again, Doctor DeBryn making small talk with Trewlove. When he wasn’t looking, he kept shooting Dev worried glances, and Fred knew he would have to ask him about that eventually. **

**When Peter came to a few minutes later, he did his best to reassure him. **

**He didn’t have to mention to any of the others that this had to stay between them. Win worried enough as it was. She didn’t have to know about another seizure. **

* * *

**The reason, Fred thought as they sat down to family dinner, that they had been so quiet in the last few days was that it was almost impossible for a conversation not to lead to Dev. Joan and Sam worked both for the Guard now, which automatically meant any mention of it reminded them of him; talking of old times always brought him before them; and remembering the years in-between, when he hadn’t been with them, only made them recall the stark absence of their son and brother. **

**And so they were quiet. **

* * *

**Win woke up before everyone else, as usual, and couldn’t resist her old habits of checking up on the children, her heart growing even heavier as she saw Dev’s empty bed. **

**In the kitchen, she set about making tea and herself useful, trying to distract herself, only for her to realize that she had automatically made four sandwiches. **

**She looked at one of them and then threw it into the bin. She didn’t care about the waste. If their oldest wasn’t going to eat it, no one would. **

**When they had brought Dev to the hospital, she had been worried, but had told herself, that in a few days he would come home and she could take care of him, like she had when he had been but a small boy. **

**Instead, she was forced to watch from afar as the son who couldn’t even remember he was her son slipped away further each day – for that’s what it felt like. **

**She tried telling herself that she was just imagining it, that it wasn’t her instincts crying out a warning. **

**It didn’t work. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *singing voice* Not done torturing the Thursdays yet


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, I am pretty tired.

Fred had no idea how he mustered up the strength to even look at his son – at this son of his who thought they were nothing but colleagues and might never get the chance to remember.

This, he well knew, was why Doctor DeBryn had tried to avoid telling him at all costs.

The temptation to try and make him remember was bigger than ever.

But that would only trigger a seizure. And then – and then –

He suddenly had a vision of how it would be, of Win’s, of Joan’s, of Sam’s faces, and at the same time he knew that his imagination would pale in comparison to the real thing.

He all but fled the squad room only to run right into Superintendent Bright. “Thursday, what –“

He saw his face and decided they were having tea in his office. Fred didn’t protest.

* * *

He told him the truth because he felt he was going to scream if he didn’t.

And there was every reason to think the superintendent would understand.

Indeed, he took a deep breath. “I am sorry.”

He was one of the few people who could say so and actually mean it. Fred took a deep breath to calm down.

“Look, Fred” it was one of the very few times he had ever used his first name, “I know that you are worried – frankly, we all are; I don’t think a single member of this station has failed to notice that things are getting worse – but right now your son is still alive, and as long as he is, there is reason to hope. He came back to you after fifteen years, after all, did he not? So there are much difficult things he has done than remember who he is.”

He was right, of course, but that didn’t make things easier.

Maybe he shouldn’t have been so bloody curious, it would have made things easier. But how could he not have asked? This was _Dev_. His oldest _child_.

“And I know for a fact that Sergeant – or should I say Commander – Jake’s is working the case” Bright continued, “And as far as I understand, he is making progress.”

“How –“ it clicked. “The Chairman.” It wasn’t a question.

“Necessarily, Commander Jakes has to reports to him, and he does seem to find it easier to communicate with me than with you. I can hardly be surprised at that.”

“Yes, I am certain he is very worried” Fred said morosely. His feelings towards the Chairman had been ambivalent from the first – had grown even more complicated once he had learned the whole truth – even if he suspected that Dev trusted him, at least as far as running the Council and working with the Guard was concerned.

“I know you will find it hard to believe, Thursday, but I do think that he’s one of the few who can perfectly understand your feelings in this matter.”

The implication was clear, but did little to make Fred feel better. He knew he was a tad possessive when it came to his family, and this didn’t help.

Still; he nodded. There was nothing else he could do.

“Don’t give up yet, Inspector. It may seem like a low blow, but I am rather certain your son wouldn’t.”

He was right, of course.

Fred nodded again.

* * *

_Take a step back,_ Peter told himself. _It’s what Dev would do. Take a step back and _focus_._

He decided to conveniently ignore for now that Dev also tended to get utterly lost in a case if there was no one (also known as Peter, or, more recently, the entirety of the Thursday family) to drag him out of his own head.

“Alright. Lethe. The river or Goddess that makes you forget. What would be the same and yet different?”

He had picked up his fair share of Ancient Greek over the years, simply because he’d had to. Many things magical were rooted in the very beginning of several civilizations, and the old Greeks had been rather inventive, especially with their magic spells and their Gods.

And then he remembered (how ironic, he _remembered_).

People didn’t often think of her (again, how ironic) but he did recall that Dev had once made a joke about how he should probably be extra grateful to that particular character of Greek mythology because she had given birth to the muses.

_Mnemosyne. _

Granted, not everything added up – the thing with the river and the women continued to confuse Peter – but really, with magic, one could never be sure.

What if Mnemosyne had known Lethe? She would have to, wouldn’t she? They would be linked, one way or the other. You couldn’t remember without forgetting, and vice versa. Like day and night.

He quickly explained his theory to the others. It might not have been much, but it was an idea, which was more than they’d had before.

“Alright. So let us assume for a moment that Mnemosyne showed up and did this to Dev.” The Guard was only too used to him referring to the captain by his first name, so hey didn’t even flinch. “The question is, what does he want?”

And then he thought some more.

What if she had known Lethe.

And that file he had found…

There was something, something he was struggling to remember…

**Two years ago**

_They had done this so often Peter couldn’t count the times; although just them working a case alone had slowly become rarer ever since Dev (or they, as he insisted) got the Guard off the ground. _

_Still, here they were once again. _

_“What do you think?” he asked Dev as they strolled towards the quarter of town Gull had named. “Why is Lethe still around – if this _is_ her – and why is she doing this?”_

_He didn’t like the smile Dev gave him one bit. “What would be the biggest fear of someone who could make people forget? Being forgotten themselves. And she made sure that there were irregularities for professionals like us to notice so she _would_ be remembered.”_

_Ah. That was it. Careful, now. “Dev, I don’t mean – are you sure –“_

_“Oh, you mean, am I projecting? Most likely. Doesn’t mean I’m not right, though.”_

_There was something to that – Dev had pretty good instincts when it came to magic. Had to, or he wouldn’t be alive right now. _

_Still. _

_Peter decided to keep his thoughts to himself for now. “So how do we do this?”_

_“If she has to hide here, it probably means she’s rather weak. And this whole “only make people forget certain things” plan… seems to me like she is desperately trying to be relevant again.”_

_“But forgetting things… that’s just normal, isn’t it?”_

_“Yes, but no one attributes it to Lethe anymore” he answered. “Everyone thinks it’s just human minds and brains.”_

_“But that’s because it is, Dev.”_

_“Peter, you should by now know that it’s never that easy.”_

_That was all too true. _

_“What’s the plan, then?” He knew him too well to believe even for a second that he didn’t have one. _

_“Well… it’s not much” he admitted, and Peter was immediately on his guard. Dev was not one for false humility; if he said it wasn’t much then it wasn’t. _

_Dev drew two flasks of blood out of his pocket. “Lamb’s blood. It was enough to make the dead talk to Ulysses, so I figured it should be enough for Lethe, especially if she’s weakened.”_

_“Shouldn’t we try not to make her stronger?”_

_“It made them compliant, too”. _

_He nodded and took the flask that was obviously intended for him. “Feel anything?”_

_Magic was fickle at the bets of times, and detecting it often an idle try. It needed someone of Dev’s power to even attempt it, and then he didn’t often succeed. _

_“Might if you helped me?”_

_Of course he would like always. He held out his hand; physical contact wasn’t strictly speaking necessary, but helpful. Dev wordlessly took it and closed his eyes. _

_As always, Peter felt their magic connect, amplify, become stronger. _

_“Two streets East” was all he said when he let Peter’s hand drop. Then he headed there, but not before Peter had seen his expression. _

_His heart sank. Maybe no one else could have guessed, but he knew him. _

_Dev had started to hope that, if this was Lethe, she could tell them something about the spell. _

_Peter had his experiences with where hope like that lead. Invariably, he’d wake up one night to Dev hammering on his door with a haunted expression in his eyes. _

_Well, he didn’t mind looking after him – he minded that he was in pain. _

_He said nothing. _

* * *

_“When you say she is weakened, any chance we can actually back that up with facts?” he asked. _

_Dev shook his head. “It is a very logical hypothesis.”_

_Once, one of his hypotheses had led to them being chased through half of London by a troll, but he wasn’t going to mention it, not when they needed to keep their wits about themselves. _

_And so they moved. _

_The house they eventually reached looked dreary and uninhabited, in other words, exactly like a hideout would look. Still, he supposed it was a serious downfall for someone who had ben worshipped in the old times. _

_Small wonder she’d gone off the deep end. _

_“Best if we go in together” Dev said quietly and he breathed a sigh of relief. He never felt comfortable when the Captain went off alone. _

_His smirk told him he’d guessed his thoughts. _

_They entered the house. _

* * *

_At first, it seemed like it was empty. _

_At least Peter believed so. _

_And then Dev suddenly touched his elbow and pointed towards a door he had had no idea was there. _

_No… wait… it was next to the front door. Of course he had known it was there. _

_Oh. _

_He looked at Dev and nodded. _

_They didn’t bother to knock. _

_Again, at first glance it appeared to be an empty room, completely devoid of anything that even resembled furniture. _

_But then…_

_Peter’s instincts told him something was there, even as his mind insisted there wasn’t. He briefly closed his eyes, trusting Dev to keep him sage as always, and extended his magic carefully throughout the entire room. _

_“The right-hand corner” he said at the same time as Dev., _

_When he opened his eyes again, he saw a young woman with long black hair that seemed to be… almost floating around her. _

_What worried him more was the haunted expression in her eyes. He’d seen it before, and it never meant anything good. _

_“What do you want” she hissed. _

_“What we want, oh Lethe” Dev said, stepping up to her, “Is to make you see that you can’t –“_

_“Can’t?”! she hissed. “_Can’t_? Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do? I used to be _prayed_ to!” Suddenly she smiled, and it wasn’t a good smile. It was the smile of someone about to slit your throat. “Oh, but what do feel there? Someone here has been forgotten too –“_

_Peter paled as he threw Dev a glance. _

_“How about you forget too, Captain Thursday!?” she asked, nearly hysterical, as Dev suddenly stumbled into him. _

_“What –“ _

_“Peter, it’s going – they’re going – I – Mum and Dad and – and Jane –“_

_“Joan” he corrected him, feeling panic flare up inside of him. _

_“Yes, of course –“_

_“Don’t worry a few more minutes in here with me and he won’t even remember that he doesn’t remember” she said cheerfully and Peter understood that she meant to keep them in this room until that happened. _

_Not on his watch. _

_“Can you walk?” he asked eagerly, but Dev was swaying from side to side, his expression quickly emptying. _

_And so he did the only thing he could. _

_He took the hex bags he carried for emergencies out po his pocket and lit it with a spell, then threw it against the door. A passage to headquarters appeared; and Peter slung Dev over his shoulder and ran. _

_Even as the passage closed behind them, he could hear Lethe’s enraged cries. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So imaginationtherapy mentioned in her story Rusty Cage (again, if you haven't read it yet, check it out!) that once Peter slung Dev over his shoulder so I had to add something like that (granted, rn that's not the moment they mentioned because well they don't remember XD but magic is complicated.) Hope you enjoyed!


	14. Chapter 14

It was progress. Peter told himself that as he went back to the station. At least they had a name, someone they could search for. For an entire month, that had escaped them. But now…

He should have considered some things amidst his triumph, though.

Most of all, that the Old Man had grown to know him quite well, especially in the last few months.

* * *

Fred had done his best not to rush into the squad room and whisk Dev away from it all, but the paperwork he had tried to concentrate on remained mostly undone. He had suspected that his son was getting worse; now he knew. And he knew what it would lead to if they didn’t fix this – if they didn’t fix Dev as soon as possible.

God.

He took a deep breath and glanced at his watch. Around the time he usually left his office and had tea in the squad room anyway. At least he could look at his son, even if he couldn’t comfort him.

Carefully, of course, so he wouldn’t trigger anything.

What a mess it all was.

And so he went outside. As soon as she saw him, WPC Trewlove leaped up in order to make him a cup of tea and he smiled at her gratefully.

Dev was typing away, looking paler and thinner than ever.

_Son, why don’t we stroll down to the pub, grab a bite to eat. Your mother would be pleased. _

The words sat on his tongue, waiting to be spoken despite everything that would happen then; he had to almost physically restrain himself from –

Jakes entered and he barely bestowed a glance on him until he noticed.

Oh, he didn’t know Jakes as well as Dev did, naturally. In a way, they had grown into adult men together.

But he hadn’t worked with the man for years for nothing, and _he had a clue._

“Sergeant, a word in my office?”

It was a too common occurrence for Dev to remark on it, but he saw both Strange and Trewlove throw glances their way that proved he was probably a bit more enthusiastic that he should be.

As soon as the door closed behind Peter he said, “What is it?”

He blinked then began, “I –“

“Sergeant” he barked “I do appreciate and understand where your loyalties lie. But this is my son we are talking about. If you know something, anything –“

In the back of his mind, he knew that he was begging, knew how desperate he sounded. But he _was_ desperate, and this was Dev’s best friend; he must at least have been able to guess what he was feeling.

Peter looked at him, bit his lip, turned away; eventually he faced him again, looking determined. “We have a theory, sir.”

“_We_ being the Guard?”

“Yes. They were all eager to help.”

As always, realizing how respected his son was filled him with pride – even now. “And?”

He sighed. “It is difficult to explain. There was a case, about two years ago, that bears certain resemblances to this one…”

Hearing him talk about Dev as a case wasn’t easy either, Fred thought. But that was what they had to do. Dev was a victim. A case. A case to be solved.

“The same perpetrator, do you think?”

Peter hesitated. “Someone who knew them, more likely. I have reason to believe that we dealt with them, back then.”

“Reason to believe?”

“Like I said, it’s difficult. I didn’t even remember the case until I found the file.”

“So they must be pretty powerful – ”

“Yes, but we already knew that”.

“Can you find them?”

“I believe so. If I am right, then… thee was someone… they would want us to find them. Otherwise revenge wouldn’t be any fun.”

“Revenge?”

Peter narrowed his eyes in an effort to think clearer, “Yes, I think that’s what this is about. She did tell you that you should learn what it felt like, didn’t she? And she probably knows what you all mean to Dev, so that hurting you is the best revenge she could have, apart from…” he trailed off.

“I spoke to Doctor DeBryn” Fred said tiredly.

He had at least the decency to look guilty. “Healer Hicks and I greed that it wouldn’t be a good move…”

“Yes, yes” he waved away his apology. He stull wanted to scream and yell at him that this was about his boy and that he had a right to know everything, no matter if the news was good or bad, but that would have been useless. Peter had his own way of doing things, had developed a way of working magical cases alongside Dev, and no anger on Fred’s part would change that. “So this hypothesis of yours…”

“Like I said, I believe I can find them.”

“When are we going?”

“I rather think Dev wouldn’t want you to –“

“Oh, do you now?” he snapped. “Because I am rather sure Dev would rather tell me himself, but he can’t, because he doesn’t know it’s Dev! And in case you haven’t noticed, this is about my family, so you better bloody believe that I will –“

He stopped himself when he saw Peter’s expression.

He’d genuinely hurt the lad.

Dev wouldn’t have liked that. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You had every right to, sir.” Peter sounded cold, distant. “We’ll go tomorrow night.”

He nodded and Peter left without another word.

* * *

He would be going tonight. The Old Man was clearly in no state to come with him (he tried to ignore the voice that was telling him he was angry at him for what he’d said) and anyway, Dev usually tried to keep them all safe, and what Peter was about to do was decidedly unsafe.

After all, he was to confront a former Goddess.

**One month ago**

**None of them had been allowed to see the captain – that was normal, of course, completely understandable, and yet they all yearned for news, more news than the Commander could or would give them. **

**He was affected too, naturally, and trying to hide just how much, but they all knew how close they were. **

**And so, on this evening, about a week after Captain Thursday had been released, Sally was hanging around his street, determined to see him and not be seen by him. That way, she couldn’t trigger anything but could tell the others.**

**Banshees could read human emotions when they concentrated – it came with the whole predicting death thing – and so she hid around a corner until Captain Thursday came home. **

**Sally liked to think of herself as rather level-headed but she still staggered when she focused on him and was hit with a wave of misery and loneliness. **

**That… that… how ** _dare_ ** she do that to their captain. How dare she. **

**She immediately turned around and went back to headquarters to tell whoever she met. **

**It was just as well. **

**Otherwise she would have been witness to a rather distressing scene. **

* * *

**It was his own damn fault. **

**If he hadn’t been so lost in his head, that vampire wouldn’t have attacked him and Peter wouldn’t be clutching his side while desperately gasping for breath. **

**He needed help, he thought as he blindly stumbled through the streets, having made sure to cloak himself from anyone who didn’t know about magic. He needed to find a phone booth or a – **

**Wait, that was a door. What was he doing there – **

**And then to his horror he realized he’d automatically fled to Dev’s place because he had done so several times before. **

**Oh God. He needed to leave before –**

**The door opened. “Jakes!?”**

**He had to perform a spell, maybe knock him out – **

_But Dev, he couldn’t use his magic against Dev – _

**Dev cried out and clutched his head. **

_Oh dear God, no – _

**He tried to reach out only to double up in pain himself. **

**And then, suddenly, there were warm hands searching his side, keeping pressure on the wound. “Peter, what happened?”**

**And there it was, warm and comforting and familiar, reaching out to him.**

**Dev’s magic.**

**“Dev?”**

**He nodded, sweat pearls on his forehead. “Let’s get you inside.”**

**And Peter understood that he was fighting back the seizure that was sure to come in order to help him. “Dev – no – you need to go inside and –“**

**“And what? Leave you to bleed out?” he forced out bluntly. “Come on”.**

**And he all but dragged him unto his sofa before inspecting his wound. “It’s not as bas as it could be” he sighed with relief. “Yes, it’s bleeding somewhat badly, but nothing a Healer won’t be able to help you out with. Just have to make sure you make it there.”**

**“Dev –“**

**“Hush, now I’m, working here.”**

**Peter could do nothing but hold still while Dev did his best to clean and bandage the wound just well enough that he’d make it to the hospital. “Peter, were you out on your own? What were you thinking?”**

**“That I needed to do exactly that – think. I needed some air”. He hesitated, but the damage was already done. “Dev, do you know what’s going on?”**

**“I –“ he stopped talking and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. “I think so. How long has it been?”**

**“Little more than a week.” It just ** _felt_ ** like years. **

**“How are they?”**

**No need to clarify. **

**“They are hanging in.”**

**“Abd you?”**

_Falling apart but what else is new_ **. “Same.” **

**Dev rubbed his forehead. The bond (Peter hadn’t even ** _realized_ ** how much he missed it) was strong between them and despite everything, he felt himself relax. “How long do we have?”**

**“I don’t know. Not long. I can feel a pounding in my head.”**

**“What if I put you to sleep before you seize up?”**

**Using such spells was forbidden unless you were a Healer of course, or unless one did it on oneself, and that was rather complicated. **

**Peter didn’t care. Once this was over, Dev could arrest him for it if he wanted to. **

**“That would probably for the best. We still have a few minutes, though.”**

**Peter would rather have acted immediately, but a part of him relished that he didn’t have to give up their bond again quite yet. **

**“Alright. So this woman touched my forehead, and then I was out. I woke up as Endeavour Morse.”**

**“No you didn’t he said because he couldn’t help himself. “You’re Dev Thursday. My best friend. You always will be.”**

**He smiled that half-smile of his. “If you say so, Peter. But the point is, she gave me different memories…” he trailed off. “There was a case” he said suddenly. **

**“What?”**

**“Two years ago. There…” he rubbed his forehead again; by now he was sweating profusely and shaking with the effort to stave of the effects of the spell. Peter could feel their bond quiver. “There was a case” he repeated, obviously frustrated, “But I can’t remember. And moreover, I believe there’s a chance that you won’t recall what I just told you, either. “**

**“Then I’ll find it on my own” he vowed. “We’re all working to get you back.”**

**“I never doubted that.” He closed his eyes. “I believe” he managed “we should –“**

**“Yes. Yes, of course.” He hesitated for a moment then continued, “Dev – “**

**“I am not worried”. He actually managed to smile at him. “I got my best man on the case.”**

**When he swallowed, there was a lump in his throat. “Take care” he manged to force out. **

**“Funny. I was about to do the same. I’ll see you around, Peter.”**

**He nodded. **

**By unspoken agreement, Dev lay down on his sofa, and Peter performed the spell. He immediately relaxed into sleep. **

**Peter knew that he should have put an empty bottle next to him, make him think he’d drunken too much, maybe use a spell to make him feel like he had a hangover, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead he got a blanket and a pillow and carefully tucked him in, watching over him for a moment before leaving. **

**Dev was still in there. Dev was still in there and had broken through because Peter needed him. Dev had helped him. **

**He clung to the thought. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought Peter subconsciously remembering what Dev told him and therefore going to the archive to look for files was pretty neat, if I say so myself.


	15. Chapter 15

He knew he shouldn’t try and confront an ancient deity alone, knew that it was foolish and dangerous, and not to mention risky, but he couldn’t help it. They didn’t have much time, and there was nothing else he could do.

He had to get Dev back. That was what the Chairman had told him, hadn’t he?

As if his thoughts had summoned the man, he was suddenly knocking on the door of his office. “Commander, a word?”

He nodded as he strolled in as if he owned the place.

“I do have a theory, but I rather assume that you have already reached the same conclusion.”

Peter had long ago to another conclusion as well – that it was more than probable that the Chairman could read his thoughts, so he just nodded again.

“What you are about to do is rather –“

“I am aware.”

“The Captain would be the first to tell you not to do it.”

“I know that, too.”

He studied him then with his pale, unblinking eyes. Eventually, he nodded. “Sometimes I think he himself does not know the depth of loyalty he is able to inspire.”

That, Peter could easily believe. “I am doing it” he said firmly.

“Where?”

“Where we first met her – where she did _that_ to him.”

“Have you any idea why she’s doing it yet?”

“There was something to do with Lethe” he said.

“I don’t remember being briefed on the case, which makes me believe you forgot it as soon as it was over. Otherwise the Captain would undoubtedly have handed in a report.”

There was an underlying question in his voice that Peter hastened to answer. “Undoubtedly, Chairman.”

Dev had never tried to keep anything form then – man; there was no point. He’d find out, anyway.

He nodded, apparently satisfied that his trust hadn’t been misplaced.

If Peter hadn’t seen the pain in his eyes during the talk in his office, he might have been inclined to think he really didn’t care whether Dev ever returned or not other than it was a minor inconvenience, considering the Guard; but he knew better.

He might never understand their relationship, but that didn’t mean –

“Here” the Chairman suddenly said, pulling out a hex bag out of his pocket. “It will protect you. It’s rather powerful.”

Meaning he’d done it himself. “And” he added, “Might I suggest a visit to the curator of the Bodleian library?”

He knew something but of course he couldn’t just tell him. “What for?”

“Captain Thursday would never forgive me if I let you go in there unarmed.”

Yes, he did care.

* * *

Mr. Lee was, as always, glad to see him. Sometimes Peter thought his curiosity of magic had more than a little touch of the voyeuristic, but still – the man had his uses.

Ten minutes later, he left with a bag in his hands and a strange feeling of déjà-vu.

* * *

He had to make another appearance at the station naturally, after he’d put the bag in his office at headquarters.

“The Old Man and Dev are checking out a lead” Strange told him. He hesitated, then continued, “Looks thinner every day.”

Peter wanted to snap at him, of only to relieve some of the tension he was feeling, but didn’t. Strange was trying his best, like they all were. “I know” he said simply.

“I put some extra sugar in his tea” Trewlove said.

“He doesn’t like it like that.”

“Yes, but’s also too polite not to drink it if I make it for him.”

He’d always thought Trewlove had a bit of a mischievous streak.

It turned out that she had also guessed what he was about to do, for she looked at him and said quietly, “Be careful.”

“I’ll do my best”.

He was well aware what he was doing was _not_ going to be careful. At all.

But he thought of the trust in Dev’s eyes, that night the spell had temporarily been lifted (although his memories were hazy, undoubtedly thanks to _her_), when he had helped him, like he always did.

_I got my best man on the case._

Yes, he had.

And he was going to bring him home, no matter what.

* * *

DI Thursday had been rather tired and withdrawn the last few days, and Morse was starting to get worried. And it wasn’t just him – Mrs. Thursday seemed more haunted by the day, and he somehow couldn’t get the haggard look on Miss Thursday’s face when she had visited him in the hospital out of his mind. Not because of any… romantic feelings he had for her (for some reason, the thought now made him shudder) but because it hadn’t looked right there.

Another stab of pain in his head. He closed his eyes.

“Everything alright, lad?” the DI, who was driving, asked and he opened them again.

“Yes.” He hesitated then carefully continued, “As a matter of fact, sir, I have been wondering the same about you.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, his hands tightened around the steering wheel. “With me? Everything’s fine.”

“I am sorry sir, but I don’t believe you. It’s… there’s nothing wrong with Mrs. Or Miss Thursday, I hope?”

* * *

How could he have forgotten about his son’s instincts? Even now, he was a great detective; and years of working in the Guard had honed them as well, even if he couldn’t currently remember.

And he knew that on more than one morning, there had been tears in Win’s and Joan’s eyes they had tried carefully to hide.

He swallowed. As of now, he didn’t seem to be seizing up, but if he continued to ask questions…

Quickly, then. “I – it’s – a nephew of ours, well, Win’s, actually – he got into an… accident a few weeks back. We don’t know yet if he’ll be okay. The children have always been close to their… cousin, and he’s been a favourite of Win’s since he was born.”

He fell silent, desperately hoping it would be enough.

At first he said nothing, then quietly he answered, “I am very sorry.”

He sounded almost stilted – of course. He believed himself to be rather helpless when it came to social interactions at the moment.

“Nothing you can do about it, lad” he forced himself to say. At least that was true.

He and Peter would have to deal with this, to bring their son home.

**Two years ago**

_“Dev? Dev!”_

_The hex bag had brought them straight into his office in headquarters; Peter had deposited him on his chair and was trying frantically to catch his attention. “Dev!”_

_He blinked at him, slowly. “Peter?” he then asked. _

_He took a deep breath and asked, “What’s your name?”_

_A pause. His heart sank._

_Then – “My real one or the one I am forced to use?”_

_He could have screamed with relief. “Let’s go for the real one.”_

_“Endeavour Thursday.”_

_“Who are your parents?”_

_“Father – DI Fred Thursday of Cowley Police station, Oxford. Mother – Win Thursday. Birthmother – Constance Matthews. I have two siblings, Joan and Sam.”_

_Peter sighed. “Thank God. Whatever she a doing to you, it didn’t work.”_

_“I don’t think she meant it to stick. It was more a demonstration of power than anything else. Thank you, Peter.”_

_“You don’t have to thank me.” He would gladly carry him out of every sticky situation they found themselves in, if need be._

_“Still – I don’t know hat I would have done if I’d lost them” his voice quivered. “That would have meant that I never – that we never could lift the spell.”_

_“Don’t think about that. I’m ready to bet that’s what she was counting on.”_

_“I know, I know”. Dev rubbed his forehead. “That’s what Dad must have felt like when he tried to hold on to everything a year ago” he mumbled and something like ice flowed through Peter’s veins. _

_He grabbed his shoulder. “Dev” he said urgently. “We need to work the case. _The case_.”_

_“You are right of course” he said, shaking his head and getting up despite Peter’s protests. “We need to get back there, and we need to arm ourselves.”_

_“How? She’s something like a God” he pointed out. _

_Dev turned to him and he saw that he’d had an idea. _

* * *

_Mr. Lee, curator of the Bodleian, had met them on several occasions – as someone who knew about magic, he liked to visit charity events the Council organised for the less fortunate (as the Chairman always said, “We look after our own” although Peter wasn’t sure who his own people were)._

_He knew Dev better than Peter, mostly because Dev was more interested in history. “Captain Morse! Commander Jakes! This is a surprise! How may I help you?”_

_Peter had been to the museum before – mostly because it had ben a rainy Sunday afternoon and he hadn’t had anything better to do than to tag along with Dev, although he had regretted when he’d realized that instead of re-familiarizing himself with the city, Dev was actually wallowing in memories of his parents taking him there as a kid – and a vague recollection flashed through his mind as Dev said, “We have come for Diomedes’ Lance, Mr. Lee.”_

_“How” he asked quietly as they followed the curator, “Did a Lance from ancient Greece end up in Oxford again?”_

_“Oh, they just call it the Lance of Diomedes because – well, it was mean to harm gods” Dev answered just as quietly, probably so Mr. Lee wouldn’t hear them and start a long-winded explanation, as he was wont to do whenever a subject matter he was an expert in came up. “I did some research on it when I was a student in London.”_

_“But why would anyone want to harm gods? They are supposed to be the good guys, the ones who watch over us, aren’t they?” Peter personally had never truly believed in any religion; that gift had been ripped from him with his innocence and trust in men in his childhood. _

_He had other things he believe in. _

_Like the pledge he had taken when he joined the Guard. _

_Or Dev. _

_“As long as something’s alive, someone will devise a way to kill it” Dev shrugged, “That’s how it works.”_

_It was as good an explanation as anything else, and furthermore, it was exactly the kind of thing Dev loved to say, so Peter had fight back the urge to smile. _

_“Now, you have to be careful with it” Mr. Lee told them as he handed the Lance over to Dev. “This is quite a valuable object…”_

_Peter wondered what he would have said if they had told him they planned to stick it into a goddess. It might have been funny but he decided not to risk it. _

_“Don’t worry Mr. Lee, we know how to handle artefacts” Dev assured him. _

_“So, tonight?” Peter asked. _

_“Yes. If I am right, she’ll be waiting for us. Itching for a fight, at a guess. Otherwise she would have made us forget.”_

_“What if she tries again to…” he trailed off. _

_“There are two of us. One should eb able to get to her.” Dev thought for a moment. “Might even be a good thing if she targets me, then you have the advantage…”_

_Peter didn’t bloody think so, but there was little use in telling him. “Should we take any of the others with us?”_

_Dev thought about it for a moment then said, “I know this sounds strange, but… seems right that it should just be us.”_

_Peter felt so, too. _

* * *

_And so they made their way back to the house after night had fallen. Dev was carrying the Lance. They were still hoping they wouldn’t have to use it – maybe they could convince Lethe to stop through other means, he’d said, maybe there was something she wanted…_

_Peter wasn’t so sure about that, but he happened to like plans that didn’t automatically include killing someone or something as well. _

_“Ready?” Dev asked as they were once more standing in front of Lethe’s chosen abode._

_“As ready as I’ll ever will be” Peter said. “Let’s catch a goddess.”_


	16. Chapter 16

Morse had no idea what he was doing.

No, that wasn’t correct; he had a rather good idea of what he was doing, just not why he was doing it.

For one, he wasn’t really the type to take long walks. And yet there he’d been, walking through the streets of Oxford for no other reason than he had felt miserable and restless.

He didn’t know the part of town he was currently walking around in very well, either. He hadn’t even spent much time there when he had been a student at Lonsdale.

Something was wrong, he was sure of that. But what exactly was wrong, or how it was wrong, or why, were things that continued to elude him.

And yet…

His instincts were crying out for…

For…

He couldn’t say.

It was all so bloody confusing, and it wasn’t helped by his worry about the Thursdays. He knew he wasn’t very good at comforting people, and that really, he was the last thing they needed to feel biter, but it couldn’t be easy, with their nephew and cousin apparently fighting for his life…

Th dull throbbing in his head didn’t exactly help, either, and he kicked a pebble from the sidewalk to channel his frustration. It didn’t work.

And then, suddenly, there he was.

Morse hadn’t really spent much time wondering about Jakes, despite the man persisting in staring at him as if he expected something, anything, in the last few weeks. But this… this was weird.

Why was he hurrying around in the street, with an old bag slung over his shoulder, looking as determined as Morse had ever seen him?

Morse could have called out to him. Instead, he decided to follow in his footsteps and see what he was up to.

He was his sergeant after all, he reasoned with himself. It was his duty to have his back.

And so, he followed him.

* * *

Really, it was more a hunch than anything else.

Fred had come to rely on his hunches over the years.

Or, well, maybe less of a hunch and more of knowing that both his son and his best friend had a self-sacrificial streak that tended to get in the way.

And so, he called into Guard headquarters right begore leaving the station.

It was Lieutenant Ford who answered. “Hello?”

“DI Thursday speaking.”

The awkward silence that was quite usual these days whenever he spoke to a member of the Guard ensured. They simply didn’t know how to talk to their captain’s family without mentioning the elephant in the room – and understandable it was, too.

Fred really wished he wouldn’t feel so angry at them about it all.

“Good evening, Inspector”.

“I need to talk to Commander Jakes.”

Another beat of silence, long enough that his heart sank. He knew this silence. It said _Oh no, we have a problem._ It said, _Let me just think really quickly about what I am going to disclose._ It said, _I really don’t want to rat out a superior officer. _

Fred knew that silence. He himself had been quiet like that often enough. “Where is he, Lieutenant?” he barked.

Technically, he had no authority whatsoever when it came to the Guard, as he was well aware; but as the Captain’s father, he was automatically given respect and a certain leeway when it came to things like this.

“I – I thought he was still at the station, Inspector.”

Fred’s blood ran cold.

He was going to do it himself, wasn’t he? The bloody fool was going to do it all by himself, and if something happened to him, Fred would be the none who’d have to break it to Dev once they got this whole mess sorted out. “I understand. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

He was about to hang up when she called out, “Inspector, wait!”

He did.

“I – I know I have no right – it’s not my place to say, but please, don’t be too angry at the Commander. He’s suffered too.”

Fred knew. Fred _knew_. But that didn’t excuse him just rushing in on his own.

This was more something that he would have expected Dev to –

But of course, he suddenly realized. Of course he would act like Dev. They had grown into their roles together, and were as close as it was possible for colleagues and friends to be, shy of being actual brothers. “I know, Lieutenant Ford” he said quietly. “Just, could you –“

“Oh don’t worry, I am more than capable of holding down the fort” she said with the voice of someone who had made a joke a million times and wasn’t tired of it yet.

It actually made him laugh, proving how worried he was.

“Just – bring them back to us. The Guard needs them”.

They hung up without another word.

He grabbed his hat and coat and left as quickly as he could. He had to find Jakes.

* * *

There he was, then.

Where it had all begun, and where it would end.

Just like with Octavia Stevens, he was reasonably sure that whatever Mnemosyne had done to Dev would be reversed as soon as he was dead.

Dev really wouldn’t have liked his plan to include what was more or less murder, but they didn’t have time.

That was what made him so desperate, why he was standing here all alone with an old Lance in his bag.

They didn’t have time.

It was now or never.

* * *

Morse had no idea what made the sergeant turn into this particular street.

What he did know was that nothing could have astonished him more than watch Peter Jakes suddenly drag a – a lance? – out of a bag, throw said bag away carelessly and make his way into an old and, by all appearances, abandoned house.

What was going on?

He could have called for help, of course, could have rung the station and made inquiries; but something compelled him to follow his fellow sergeant instead.

And so, he quietly stalked him into the house, careful not to be heard.

**A month ago**

**Sally was more than a little worried. Ever since she had joined the Guard, she had been aware of how close their Captain and Commander were; for lack of a family, they had become brothers of their own choosing. **

**It had been in the air for a while that the Captain would eventually take over the Chairman’s duties, and that Commander Jakes would full his position, then; but this was something else entirely. **

**This was him frantically trying to do what was best for everyone while attempting to fill shoes that shouldn’t be to be filled yet. **

**When she had brought the topic up in conversation with the others, it had quickly transpired that she’d be the lucky girl to go and talk to him. Of course. Cowards, all of them. **

**Well, maybe that was a little harsh. After all, they were all used to the Captain being the first one to address the issue whenever something was troubling the Commander. But the Captain wasn’t here. The Captain was at Cowley station, unaware that he even was the Captain, or that the Commander was leading the Guard in his absence. **

**And that left only Sally to sort things out. **

**She knocked on his office door. Even though they hadn’t talked about it, she knew everyone was relieved he hadn’t moved into the captain’s room. It would have seemed so… final. **

**“Come in.”**

**She entered. **

**“Ah, yes, Lieutenant, what is it?”**

**As if they didn’t know what was on all of their minds. **

**There were files strewn all over the desk; Commander Jakes looked haggard and pale, undoubtedly a side effect of having spent half the week in the hospital just hanging around the corridors and hoping for good news, and the other half worrying for his best friend while taking over the Captain’s duties as well. **

**Sally didn’t know exactly what he and the Chairman had talked about. That was something else to ponder, something only between those who knew magic, and furthermore something for the select few who were aware that the Chairman and the Captain were as close as they could possible have been, considering what the Chairman was. **

**“I was wondering if there was news, sir.” Best to grab the bull by the horns, that had always been her moto. That was why she had applied to the Guard to begin with. **

**For a moment, she thought he would start yelling at her. A part of her would have welcomed it, would have enjoyed the chance to vent. **

**Instead, he deflated as he sat down. **

**Commander Jakes didn’t often allow himself to look vulnerable, and when he did, Sally was rather sure, it was mostly around the Captain. So it was a sign of trust when he quietly said, “No changes”, looking like he might actually cry. **

**“I – I’m sure he’ll –“ she broke off. She didn’t know the Commander’s story, only bits and pieces and rumours that had been floating around for years, but she was aware that his upbringing hadn’t been… ideal; and furthermore, she had every reason to believe that he didn’t think much of platitudes. **

**So, she decided to be honest. “It must be hard.”**

**“It is. On all of us”. **

**She wondered if he’d noticed that he’d identified himself with the Captain’s family, but if anyone had the right to…**

**“Of course” he continued, immediately backpaddling, “DI and Mrs. Thursday are besides themselves, and you saw his siblings…”**

**Yes, she had. She hadn’t been surprised when Miss Thursday had snapped at the Chairman; if she’d been in this situation, she would have done the same. **

**She nodded.**

**For a few moments, he was silent and she got the impression that she was being dismissed; then he began, “He doesn’t even like me much.”**

**She waited. It was clear he needed to get this off his chest; and it was her duty to make sure her boss was well enough to effectively lead the Guard. **

**That was what she told herself, anyway. If she was also compelled to stay because of some sense of curiosity and affection for the Commander, she pretended that this wasn’t the case. **

**“I – I could live with him not remembering who I am. You can always get to know someone again, right? But he doesn’t like me, or think much of me as a police officer.”**

**That must hurt. Captain Thursday had always been very open about his trust of and reliance on the Commander. **

**“I can’t even bring him tea without him seizing up, because he doesn’t believe I am capable of a single act of kindness! I can’t ask him how he’s bloody doing, I can’t watch out for him –“**

**He stopped talking, breathing heavily. **

**She knew she had to chose her words wisely. “I hope you’ll forgive me, sir, but you ** _are_ ** watching out for him.”**

**He raised his head. She registered his red-rimmed eyes but forced herself not to react. “You are leading the Guard, making sure everything will be fine when he returns” she continued instead, “You take note of his condition at the station, so that you know what’s going on at all times. You look after his family too, I bet.”**

**A somewhat guilty glance of his made her suspect that he did indeed take care of Inspector Thursday as well. **

**“You are doing everything you can to keep Oxford safe. Believe me, Commander – he will tell you himself when we get him back – ** _you are doing everything you can_ **.”**

**Silence fell. She wasn’t sure if she had done the right thing or not, but then he quietly replied, “Thank you, Lieutenant.”**

**“Nothing to thank me for, sir”. **

**He nodded and she left the office. **

**Maybe she could do nothing for the captain at present, but she could make bloody sure that the Guard was running smoothly and that his best friend didn’t work himself into the ground while he was unable to look after him. **


	17. Chapter 17

Yes. This had been it. Peter could feel it now, the memories, just inside the back of his head, reaching out…

Still, there was something keeping him from fully accessing them…

They really were very powerful. Had been. No. Still were; Mnemosyne was a goddess in her own right, otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to scramble their memories like that.

For God’s sake, Dev hadn’t even told the Chairman, and he knew better than to hide anything from him.

Peter stood still and blinked. What was going on? He had a reason to be here, certainly? He did remember that he had a case, and that was why he was heading towards the Bodleian library…

_No, you idiot. The Bodleian was where Dev got injured two years ago. Keep your head straight. This is about getting him back; you want that, don’t you? You need that. You need Dev back. Think. _

He grasped the Lance tighter. There was something almost like a memory, of Dev doing the same…

God, not having his memories was frustrating. Small wonder Dev looked more harried with every passing day…

The thought of Dev kept him going, as usual.

He moved forward.

* * *

It was dark, but not cold, as he would have expected for some reason. Maybe their old case had taken place in winter; he was _almost_ certain of it…

He was almost certain of many things, and it was that almost that was driving him crazy. Almost sure that this was the right place. Almost sure that Mnemosyne was behind this. Almost sure that once he had dealt with her, Dev would go back to normal.

Well. No time like the present to find out.

* * *

When he saw the door, he remembered, remembered Lethe waiting for them and what she had done to Dev the first time they’d seen her.

Well, if she really wanted to take the memories of his childhood from Peter, she was more than welcome to. He’d probably be better adjusted at the end of it.

* * *

Wat in God’s name was he doing here, and with a lance? That was what left Morse feeling so confused.

It also didn’t help that the headache had flared up again.

He wondered if he should slip out again and try to find a phone, alert Thursday, but to what? Granted, it wasn’t normal to be carrying lances around, but he didn’t think unless he threatened someone with it, he was breaking any laws.

Should he tell him hat he was rather certain Jakes was losing his mind? He’*d been off these past few weeks, Morse knew that…

Make sure, he told himself. It won’t do to accuse a fellow officer of… of… whatever I am accursing him of.

He only wondered why accursing Jakes of anything felt so _incredibly_ wrong. As if he trusted him much more than he usually did –

A wave of dizziness hit him and he staggered against the wall, his head pounding. What was wrong with him? He felt like – like –

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. _Concentrate. You have to concentrate._

The pan rescinded somewhat and he moved.

* * *

Peter wished his heart wasn’t pounding that badly. An uneasy feeling had slowly been spreading through his entire body, filling him with dread. Almost as if a warning signal was sounding somewhere in his head…

But he couldn’t concentrate on that now. Dev needed him. He needed to fix this.

And so he did what he had to do and continued to search the rooms.

Certainly, even if she weren’t there, he’d find out where she was hiding.

Finally, at the tope of the house, he found the door to the attic. Granted, if he’d have expected anything, it would have been the cellar, but still…

* * *

Morse had no idea how Jakes hadn’t spotted him yet. Certainly he didn’t move as quietly as that?

And yet here eh still was stalking the man. And now they were going up to the attic. What could he possible hope to find there?

Pet – Jakes (where had that come from?) went through the door. It drifted shut behind him and Morse waited for a few moments before going to open it.

To his surprise and dismay, it stayed firmly shut.

* * *

Peter couldn’t quite say what he had expected. From his vague memories, he had the feeling that Mnemosyne had been the more level-headed one of the two, but why he had gotten the impression, he couldn’t say.

Lethe had surrounded herself with decay and emptiness while this… was actually furnished.

And more than furnished.

This wasn’t just a room.

This was a _shrine_.

Peter might not have known their history, might have had no idea how they had felt for one another – if they had even been able to feel, with being personifications more than persons – but this…

Lethe was everywhere. In a small statue, in a few mirrors, in a jug of water that had been reverently placed on a small table in the middle of the room – even random things that didn’t seem to be connected to any myths at all – somehow they gave Peter the feeling that they had belonged to her.

Mnemosyne had created a museum for Lethe.

They must indeed have dealt with her, then.

He grabbed the Lance tighter.

Then, a voice behind him. “I was waiting for you, Commander”.

**Two years ago**

_Say what you want, Peter thought, he would still have felt better if they had both had a weapon. Not because he didn’t trust Dev to protect him, but there was no one having Dev’s back, because of course he had to go first. _

_It was of course his duty as his supervising officer, or at least he believed so, but Peter always thought he’d be hard pressed to find a boss who insisted to do the dangerous work instead of delegating it. _

_He sighed. _

_Well, nothing for it now but to wait and see. _

_And so they moved. _

_Long nights at work had given them an almost instinctive knowledge of the darkness, had made sure they knew how to behave, what to listen for. _

_And this…_

_This house was too silent to be empty. There was a stillness to it all…_

_She was still here. _

_Dear God, was she waiting in the very same room?_

_He could tell Dev was looking at him, and in the dark he reached out and squeezed his shoulder to let him know he was ready. _

_And they moved. _

_Soon, they heard voices. “You can’t keep doing this, Lethe! The Guard has already come around once, and if not for your dirty trick, they would have –“_

_“What exactly, Mnemosyne? I am stronger than they will ever be!”_

_“They are the Guard! You have heard the rumours. And there’s the Chairman to consider –“_

_“A mere child” the voice said derisively. _

_“For you maybe, but – Lethe this is simply the wrong thing to do! You can’t go around harming people!”_

_“I barely harmed them!”_

_“Mnemosyne?” Peter whispered. “Wasn’t she like the mother of the muses or something?”_

_“And the personification of memory” Dev replied just as quietly, “Which means…_

_“Yin to her yang kind of thing.”_

_He nodded. _

_This complicated matters. They now had to deal with two ancient beings, both of whom could probably scramble their minds if they so chose. _

_“Surprise ambush?” he asked. _

_“One of them seems to be reasonable” Dev replied – _

_“You should probably come in, Captain, Commander” Lethe’s voice rang out and they traded a glance before complying. There was nothing else they could do. _

_“Welcome back, Captain Morse. She greeted them.”_

_“Thursday. You know it as well as I do” he said quietly. _

_“Yes, I didn’t expect your friend to get you out of here in time.” She frowned. “You’re better protected now.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Still no match for me.”_

_“Lethe” Mnemosyne interrupted her before turning to them, “Look officers, I know people have been harmed and that it doesn’t look good, but Lethe was just going through something, and I am sure that she is going to behave from now on –“_

_“No she is not!” Lethe turned to Mnemosyne. “Stop treating me like a child!”_

_“Stop acting like one!”_

_She hissed at Peter and Dev, “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be forgotten?”_

_It was the wrong thing to say. Dev’s hand tightened around the lance. “I think you’ll find that I do indeed, if what you tried to do earlier is anything to go by –“_

_“Oh please. Boo hoo, your stupid human family forgot you because of a magic trick. That’s _nothing_ compared to my powers. And yet here Octavia Stevens is, running around, in a position of authority while we are squatting. Because you forgot us!”_

_Peter needed a moment to realize that with you, she meant humans as a whole and not just the two of them. _

_“So I thought I’d cause a little trouble. Nothing too bad, of course – just a little trouble! And then, with the Guard involved – everyone is always talking about you and what great work you have been doing – then people would know my name once more!”_

_“Lethe we’ve talked about this” Mnemosyne tried. “It is much safe if we lie low, you know how magic can be –“_

_“We should not have to lie low! We are better than them, Mnemosyne! We are stronger! We have more power!”_

_“Seems to me like humans invented you” Dev observed, still clutching the lance. _

_No, it definitely had not been a good idea to mention the spell or Octavia Stevens. Peter moved a bit closer to his captain, just to be ion the safe side. _

_“To be better than them! To be gods! And now look at us – what gave you the right to stop believing?”_

_“What gave you the right to rob people or hit them with a car?” Dev demanded. “No one.”_

_“I just want to be remembered!” she wailed even as Mnemosyne tried to calm her down. “If you actually insist on comparing our situations, you must know what that feels like!”_

_That was a low blow. _

_Thankfully, Dev just took a deep breath. “As the Captain of the Guard, I hereby arrest you for –“_

_“That’s it! You won’t understand, you won’t exist!” she announced and leaped at him and Peter knew that, if she was allowed to touch any part of Dev, they would lose him. _

_They were helped by Mnemosyne who called out “That’s not the way” and managed to hold on to her dress – _

_Peter meanwhile dragged Dev to the side; Lethe and Mnemosyne at this point where a mess of limbs._

_Dev looked at him. “She won’t stop.”_

_He shook his head. “And we can’t arrest her –“ they had to jump to the side because they were still fighting – “She’d just make the judge or the jury or the prison guards forget her and walk out.”_

_Dev studied his face carefully before saying, “She’s obviously after me, so…”_

_Thankfully, Lethe and Mnemosyne were so busy with each other that he managed to grab the former – well, river in the Underworld – and drag her to the side, holding her down. _

_“No, wait –“ Mnemosyne began. “_Please_, wait!”_

_“Are you going to stop?” Dev asked quietly, raising the lance. _

_She stared at him. “No.”_

_He did what had to be done, even as Mnemosyne screamed. _


	18. Chapter 18

“Good evening“ he greeted her, finally fully recognizing the woman… shaped creature as he studied her. “Mnemosyne. It’s been a while.”

If he didn’t count that last time when she had done… _that_ to Dev, and he rather thought it’d be better not to mention it.

She hummed. “Yes. When you, or rather your friend, killed Lethe”.

“He had no choice. You heard him; you knew she was going to continue to commit crimes. We had no way of keeping her locked up. An ancient Goddess? Not even the Chairman would have been able to control her.” Abd that, as he well knew, was saying something.

“The Chairman” she sneered. “Sitting all day down in his office, letting you do the dirty work. You know, if I was your captain, I would have told him off long ago.”

“He was eighteen” Peter said quietly – he might not have understood how exactly Dev felt about the Chairman, but he was not about to let her lecture him on the subject. “He was eighteen and all alone and he offered him a place to stay –“

“Oh, so now being all alone is a problem, is it?”

Peter glanced across the room again. It might not have been the best thing to say.

As a matter of fact, the attic reminded Peter uncomfortable of his own place at the moment. But he wasn’t going to think about that, now. “What exactly do you want?” he asked tiredly. “Revenge? Vengeance? That never ends well.” To this day, he didn’t know how Dev had resisted the temptation to kill Octavia Stevens on this day. He would never ask – had sworn to himself that her name would never pass his lips again – but sometimes he remembered, remembered Dev reaching into his pocket, and her smile, the smile that had told him that if he allowed this to happen he would lose his best friend for good…

And then Dev had been strong enough to refuse to be drawn into the darkness.

“Vengeance?” she asked quietly. “I would call it justice.”

“_Justice_? Do you even _know_ what his family has gone through?”

“I am good with reading memories, Peter Jakes. I know what _you_ have been going through.”

Was there a hint of satisfaction on her voice? He couldn’t say, and it made him rather angry. Dev had just been doing his job. He had the duty to look after the creatures of Oxford. They both had.

And Peter was going to make bloody well sure that he could continue to do so, whether as the Chairman or the Captain.

“So? What happens now?”

He swallowed. “I am here to arrest you.” If she accepted it, they might be able to retain her after all. “And then you are going to –“

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll have to use force.”

“Oh, will you?”

Granted, he didn’t have anyone to hold her down, but she didn’t have any help, either.

And he was a man on a mission, after all.

He was going to bring Dev home, come what may.

* * *

This was ridiculous.

He had seen Jakes go through this door, and thee had definitely not been any sound to indicate that it was being locked, and yet here he was, trying desperately to get in, even though he couldn’t say why he was that desperate. Jakes could look after himself, and he was the one who was carrying an actual _lance_ around.

And yet…

And yet.

Morse looked around, trying to find something, anything that might help him break open the door.

His pounding head, telling him that another attack of what he had come to slowly realized over the last weeks were seizures associated with certain inconsistencies in his memory.

It scared him more than he dared to admit, and made it even more confusing why they kept telling him after every check-up that he was fine and then insisted on another one.

But he couldn’t focus on that now. He had to get to Jakes, he needed to get to the bottom of this.

* * *

Here was the thing – Fred was absolutely sure that the house had been around here _somewhere_, but hw couldn’t find it.

And he was starting to suspect that this had magical reasons, rather than old age finally catching up with him. Someone didn’t want to find him the house.

Which meant it was most likely her. He didn’t think so little of Peter Jakes as to suspect him, not with how obviously he had been suffering.

If they got Dev back, he was going to give both of them a strict talking to about taking care of themselves. Out of earshot of any Guard members of course, but still.

He suddenly realized that he had thought _if_ and his blood ran cold. Of course he’d meant _when_, he told himself.

He doubled his efforts. He had to find the house. He had to.

* * *

Morse had gone downstairs and returned with the wooden leg of a rotted-away chair. It wasn’t the what he would have chosen, but it was better than nothing.

(Something in his mind was screaming that there was quite another way, but it was obscured by his headache).

He did his best, but the door wouldn’t budge. Wasn’t that strange, he thought – after all, everything else in this house was dilapidated.

So why did this door refuse to move?

And what was Jakes doing there anyway? He couldn’t hear a thing. Not even a sound of someone searching for something.

* * *

“And how, Commander, do you imagine this is going to go? Because you rather failed to bring reinforcements… Too used to having a constant companion at your side, are you?”

He didn’t answer to her taunting, concentrating on funding a chip in her armour. He would have to act quickly.

“Well” she drawled, “I say we ask the person who is in the middle of this. The _victim_, so to speak. It’s only fair, isn’t it?”

“What are you –“

The door opened and Dev all but fell in, staring at them with wide eyes. “Jakes? What is going on?”

**Two weeks ago**

**Oxford’s magical community was both one of the more populated and most interconnected one in the country, and rumours flew quickly and swiftly. **

**By now, it was a well-known fact what had happened to the captain of the Guard, even though their own newspapers politely refused to report on the case. **

**Even so…**

**Those who had psychic abilities had been quick to notice that the town felt less safe than it had before. The Captain and the cases he had solved were all but legendary at this point – anyone who had built the Guard back up would have been. **

**And it wasn’t just that. Many knew the Captain personally, if only because of a call they had made after a burglary or a spell gone wrong or because of the charity events the Chairman usually invited high-ranking members of the Guard to. **

**The thing was, Endeavour Thursday – finally Endeavour Thursday again; the more sensitive of the magical creatures of Oxford had simply accepted the fact and delivered their congratulations upon catching him alone – wasn’t just respected; he was well-liked. **

**And that meant that right now, a part of the entire population of the city was worried about him. **

**Peter understood. But that didn’t make it any easier. **

**He walked down the street to the small store where he bought his magical supplies at regular intervals. **

**The owner, a pixie named Maddie who habitually kept her pointy ears hidden through magic so she could move through human society unhindered, greeted him with a soft, carefully controlled smile. “Commander.”**

**“Hello, Maddie.”**

**She allowed him to browse for a while – he needed myrrh, and had noticed that his stash of burdock root was also running low – then, when he went to pay, she quietly asked, “I take it there are no changes?”**

**“None whatsoever.” He could have told her – that things were getting worse, that ** _Dev_ ** was getting worse – but he didn’t want that to make the rounds. Everyone was on edge as it was. **

**She looked at him, then rummaged under her desk before getting out a few teabags. “Here, Commander. It’s for relaxation. You look like you could use it.”**

**Before he could figure out if he should be thankful or angry, she added, “He wouldn’t want you to run yourself ragged. I know that.”**

**She was right, of course, so he accepted the gift.**

* * *

**Thankfully, he didn’t meet any of his magical neighbours as he made his way home. **

**Having put his purchases away, he put the kettle on and settled down on the sofa, sighing. It had been a while since he had the evening to himself… he didn’t think he’d even spent as much as eight consecutive hours at home since this whole nightmare had begun. **

**Finally allowing himself to breathe – Dev would undoubtedly have told him off him for neglecting himself, even though he was the last person who had any right to, he wasn’t the one who had been slashed at under the Bodleian library or the one Peter had had to carry out of a dangerous situation more than once, for example – and settling in didn’t help as he had hopped. **

**Mostly because – well – **

**All he could see around his place was ** _Dev_ **. **

**Because there was little reason to think that he would come see him – he doubted that ** _Morse_ ** even knew where he lived – Peter hadn’t carefully gone through his place and eradicated all sings of magic and their friendship the way he had at Dev’s. **

**And so, here they were – the pictures that he now no longer bothered to hide, proving that Peter’s life wasn’t nearly as empty as everyone at Cowley station had suspected Sergeant’s Jakes to be; the portraits of him and Dev at the charity events the Chairman forced them to attend, Matthews’ snapshots during celebrations of the Guard or when they had simply gone out to eat together, since most of the Guard was a close-knit group; the evidence of when he and Dev had been forced to go to France for a case and he’d gone ballistic in the Balzac museum in Paris. **

**And the photos weren’t the only things. There were books Dev had given him as presents over the years, his first scrying bowl he’d gifted him with when he’d entered the Guard; there was the shirt he’d worn on the night they met still hanging in his closet, even if it was a little threadbare these days; there were notes in Dev’s handwriting all over the place, the furniture he had helped him move, sometimes with magic, sometimes without. **

**The truth was that, despite even living with the man for a while, he had never truly realized how intertwined their lives had become. They had needed several boxes to erase every trace of Peter from Dev’s place, too. **

**He swallowed and concentrated on his tea, hoping it ** _would_ ** eventually relax him. **

**Right now, he felt like he couldn’t breathe. **

**He knew the feeling, of course. **

**He just didn’t know what to do anymore when he was alone and started feeling that way. **

**He was a grown man, he told himself, he would survive an evening at his own place, for crying out loud. **

**And then he thought of Dev, most likely drinking the nought away, and the shadows seemed even darker than before. **

**The phone rang. Assuming it was Guard business, he immediately went to answer it. **

**It wasn’t business. **

**“Hello, Peter.”**

**“Good evening, Mrs. Thursday.”**

**“I haven’t seen you in a while. I wanted to know how you were doing.”**

_Probably better than you_ **, he thought, but instead said, “Thank you, I’m well.”**

**“Good. That’s good. He’d like that”. **

**Despite the situation, he couldn’t help but feel a little better. Mrs. Thursday had checked up on him.**

**He placed down the receiver very gently and wondered if this was what it felt like to have a mother. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, sometimes it's simply torture Peter some more time.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't think I'd make it today, but here we are. Enjoy!!!

Despite years of working for the Guard and carefully honing his instincts, Peter almost called out his name. “Morse!” he somehow managed to say instead, “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing here? In the middle of the night with a lance and a – a –“

And then what Peter had feared more than anything happened.

Dev was staring at Mnemosyne who gave him a pleased little smile and Peter only had time to register the pain in his face before he all but crumpled to the floor.

* * *

For God’s sake, where was this bloody house? It had to be around here somewhere –

Sudden pain made I impossible for Fred to think. It felt like his chest was on fire, like it had when he had still carried that bullet around…

For a second, he believed he had a heart attack, that the stress had finally gotten to him.

And then he instinctively felt what was going on.

_No. Please, anything but that. _

Somewhere in this city, his son was dying.

* * *

Win had never much cared for housework, but it gave her hands something to do when her mind was miles way, and so she was hovering while one of Dev’s LP played in the living room.

She hadn’t told any other that she had gotten into the habit of listening to them; she didn’t think they would necessarily have understood; but it made her feel closer to her little boy.

He was out there and he was all alone and…

Hot, searing pain ripped through her and she knew.

_No. It can’t be his time. Peter’s on the case! Peter’s looking after him! He can’t die! No!_

She concentrated on the pain. It was all she had to prove that for now, her son was still alive.

* * *

They were going through the spending accounts of the Guard when they felt it.

Sam didn’t understand until he saw the tears on Joan’s grace and realized they weren’t coming from the pain, excruciating though it was.

_No. Don’t take my brother away from me! We only just got him back!_

* * *

“Dev!” He caught him just in time so he could lower him to the ground, but couldn’t keep hold of him – he was trashing around again, in the grips of the worst seizure he’d yet had.

Peter stared in horror.

And Mnemosyne, she – _giggled_. “Not that nice when it’s a friend of yours, is it?”

“Fix him! Fix him right now!”

“Or what, copper? Are you going to kill me too?”

He was rather bloody determined to do so right now, but Dev needed him.

And so, he only quietly added, “Please.”

He didn’t even look at her, instead he kept staring at Dev. “You don’t know what he is to me” he continued in just the same tone and would probably have done so for quite some time, with a rant or a plea, he didn’t know – but then she interrupted him.

“He’s your Lethe” she breathed.

He didn’t have it in himself to lie as he watched his best friend dying in front of his eyes. “Yes” he replied flatly. And then he added, feeling angry and sad and scared as little child would have been, “And you took him away.”

“I – he killed Lethe –“

“He had no choice. You know that as well as I do”. Dev had instinctively grabbed his hand as he trashed around and Peter clung to it, desperate to give what comfort he could. “And the best part?” he added, watching his face contort in pain once more. “He didn’t look for you… he didn’t want to. And not because of negligence, or incompetence. Or because you made us forget it all. Before you did that – before, we talked. He was being merciful.”

“Merciful!? Do you know what it feels like to lose someone you have known all your existence, or at least the part that matters –“

“Like a missing limb” Peter was quiet now, calm. He didn’t feel a thing. The pain, he knew, would come later. When Dev stopped trashing. When his breast stopped moving. When he brought his body back to his parents. “Like the world lost most of its sense. Like there’s nothing anchoring you, and you are just going with the flow because if you stop to think for only one moment, you end up feeling like you are drowning.”

A pause.

Then, “He really _is_ your Lethe.”

“Well, and look at that. I was about as good at keeping him safe as you were with her.”

“I am sorry.”

Peter actually laughed; he started and couldn’t stop even as Dev was dying in front of his eyes. “That helps, doesn’t it. Does it make you feel better, Mnemosyne? Knowing that you brought the same pain you’ve been through? Men created you. Did they even give you something like remorse to feel? Leave us alone. He’s done for, and so am I.”

He would leave Oxford the day they buried Dev, and he would never look back.

But then, another voice in his head. _And the Guard?_

He knew exactly what – _who_ – it sounded like. And it was right, of course.

He couldn’t leave.

But part of him would die with him, in this dirty floor in this old house.

“He doesn’t have to be”.

It was so quietly said that he almost didn’t hear it over Dev’s struggles.

His head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“It means, there is a way…” she hesitated. “It is dangerous, though.”

“What way?” When she was silent he yelled at her, “WHAT WAY!?” He couldn’t have cared less that he was currently screaming at a being who was not only more powerful than many others he had encountered, but also thousands of years old. This was about _Dev_, damn it.

_“Tell me!”_

She looked at him. “His real memories… they are still in his mind” she explained.

“I know that –“

“And someone has to make their way to them, helping him to remember. You will have to enter his mind. And that means you could easily get lost. And that is not all. Stories… you know the stories, the stories those who created us made up. There is a Guardian. You have to stand up to him. If you fail, you will pay. And that… would kill you both.”

“I’ll do it”.

She stared at him. “You won’t even think about it?=”

“Would you, if you could have Lethe back?”

She looked at him with eyes that were older than the city itself.

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him” he said simply. “He saved my life so many times. Who would I be if I wasn’t ready to risk mine for him? A Commander looks after his Captain.”

She nodded, then reached out and touched his forehead.

And it all went black.

**Two years ago**

_She didn’t even crumble to dust or anything, she simply… vanished. _

_Peter stared at the place where she had lain, felt that his hands were empty, and yet still couldn’t quite understand what had happened. _

_Dev, though, stood up, looking rather sorry. “It had to be done” he said quietly “It was the only way.”_

_“I could have controlled her!” Mnemosyne wailed, “I could have made her stop!”_

_Dev laid down the lance, then stepped up to her. “It wasn’t your fault” he said quietly. “She made a decision, and –“_

_“I KNOW THAT!!!”_

_Dev quietly studied her. “You are not guilty” he replied. “It is time to move on.”_

_“MOVE ON!? MOVE ON!”_

_Peter knew that, for everyone else, Dev might have sounded patronizing, and he was about to intervene – it needed his knowledge of years to understand he was actually being sympathetic and had simply difficulties commiserating with her after over a decade of his family not even remembering he existed – but before he could, Mnemosyne was gone – gone like her… Lethe; and there was nothing they could do about it. _

_Dev sighed, then looked at him. “You want to talk”. It sounded like an accusation. _

_“You know me. Big talker, me. The more we analyse our actions, the better.”_

_Dev shook his head as he picked up the lance, but there was a smile playing around his lips. “Your place or mine?”_

_“Mine’s closer.”_

_He nodded and off they went. _

* * *

_Peter itched for a drink, but realized that might not have been the best idea, so he decided to make tea instead. _

_Dev was busy cleaning the lance in the living room, giving him time to gather his thoughts; Peter rather suspected that it was more than a coincidence or something that needed to be done anyway._

_When he brought the cups into the kitchen, Dev had already put the lance away. “Thank you” he said, reaching for his drink. _

_Peter sat down next to him. “You don’t want to go looking for her, I can tell.”_

_“No.”_

_“She – well, she wasn’t an accomplice, but she also didn’t help bring her in…”_

_“But she stopped her attacking us.”_

_“Not sure it’s that easy.”_

_Dev sighed. “No. It’s not easy.”_

_He stood up and walked to the window. Peter felt troubled; it wasn’t a good sign when Dev decided not to let him see his expression. _

_“She lost her. Mnemosyne and Lethe… their powers so aligned… they must have been like family. And she lost her today. She has more than enough to deal with.”_

_Peter said nothing, mostly because there was nothing he could say. They both knew what they were thinking of. _

_“Do you think it’s a mistake? Granting her mercy?”_

_“I am not sure the Chairman would agree with you doing that” he replied carefully. _

_“I’ll explain when I report to him.”_

_Petr could have suggested that he never had to know, but knew well that it was futile. The Chairman would know he was keeping something back. Those unblinking eyes, staring at him, demanding the truth…_

_“You do that” he said somewhat lamely. _

_“You think I was compromised because of the spell” Dev replied quietly, a non sequitur that made his head spin for a second. _

_“Anyone would have been, Dev. That’s not something you can easily look past, and you know it.”_

_“Yes. Yes I do.” He still wasn’t looking at him. “For the past two years, I have spent my days working with my father; I’ve had my littler sitter open the door for and trying to flirt with me; the brother I made things disappear for complimented me on entering their house so soon; and the mother who held me during the war doesn’t use my first name. Mnemosyne is about to go through all of that, and she is on her own. I have you, and the Guard, and the Chairman.”_

_Peter was starting to wonder how much of that was mercy, how much of it was pity, and how much was Dev just assuming his own feelings were applicable when it came to her. _

_“She will have no one” he continued to explain and Peter suddenly thought of a young boy of eighteen who had made his way to London against all odds and, if he hadn’t been directed to the Council, might well have…_

_“Alright then” he conceded, “It’s probably for the best.”_

_Privately, he determined to make inquiries and make sure that nothing bad happened because of this. And if anyone found out, he was going to take the fall for this, not Dev. “Want to stay the night?” he asked. “It’s getting late.” He didn’t add that he didn’t think Dev should be alone right now._

_They’d slept on each other’s sofas more often than they could count. _

_He gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”_

_“Anytime, you know that”. He squeezed his shoulder. _

_Tonight, they had each other, and tomorrow, they would see what to do about Mnemosyne. _

_When he returned from pouring them more tea, Dev had already taken out one of his private notebooks and was scribbling into it. His book of mythology had made an appearance as well. “Magic?”_

_“Best write it all down right now.”_

_Peter nodded, having no way of knowing that it was indeed a good thing since the next morning, neither of them would remember a single detail of the case they had just solved or the old entity who was now out there in Oxford, all alone and hurting. _


	20. Chapter 20

Just as quickly as it had come, the pain stopped.

_No!_

Win was on the sofa where she had collapsed, shaking, praying for it to start again.

_Come on. Pain means life. If he’s in pain, he’s still alive. Please. _

But there was nothing.

_No!_

_Not my son!_

Her sobs filled the silence.

* * *

Peter didn’t know where he was when he woke up. He wasn’t even quite sure how he had ended up here – everything was dark, and when he tried to bring some light in via a spell, nothing happened.

And yet he felt strangely safe, which was enough to immediately put him on his guard. IF he had learned one thing, then waking p in suspicious places was not a good thing.

_Alright. Think. You were working the case; of course you were. You were trying to get to – to – _

_Dev. _

He remembered.

Dev. This was about _Dev_. He was inside his mind now, or at least Mnemosyne had said as much, if he’d understood her correctly.

He just had to take care not to lose himself, remembering her warning.

And how difficult could that be?

* * *

Peter had always abstained from magic that could influence another’s mind and moods, mostly because he was well aware that it was a slippery slope and Dev would have been the first one to stop him.

While it had made him a better officer, it also had left him unprepared for this.

He was slowly walking, or rather stumbling, around Dev’s mind… or had he physically entered his brain? No, that seemed crazy, even for them.

And then he really got into trouble, even if he didn’t realize at the time.

* * *

“He’s not dead.”

Joan was rather sure those were the first words Sam had voluntarily spoken in days.

Se didn’t know what to say. The pain had stopped, and that could mean – it could – what if – his heart would just be broken even –

“Sammy –“

“No” he said firmly. “He’s not dead. Would be able to tell if my big brother was dead, alright?” His voice grew louder as he grabbed files and started to re-order them. “He can’t be dead because he wouldn’t just leave us behind like that. He tried to get back to us all these years! HE IS NOT DEAD!” By the end, he was shouting.

There was a telling silence at the other side of the door that told her someone had been listening and was now most likely stealing away.

At least none of the member of the Guards were prone to gossip when it came to their captain.

Sam had grown quiet again.

“Sam –“

“Don’t Joanie. Just please don’t.”

She remained silent.

* * *

Whatever he would have imagined Dev’s mind to be – and he couldn’t really said he had before – he had had supposed that it would look like a library, or perhaps a giant school room.

Instead he had just stumbled into the streets of Oxford.

Yes. This was Oxford.

Dev’s mind was made out of the streets and buildings of the city he’d spent the past few years protecting, the town he’d spent his formative teen years in.

He slowly walked down the street towards the Bodleian, figuring that if his memories were kept anywhere, it would be there.

As it turned out, he was wrong.

Suddenly, he was standing in front of a building he had never seen before. He frowned. He would have thought that by now, he knew most houses in Oxford really – at least those that were important to Dev.

He somehow felt the need to enter, and hoping it was their bond returning, he made his way inside.

And stumbled into a scene he needed a moment to understand.

There was Mrs. Thursday, but – she looked much younger. She was making sandwiches, of course –

Wait, she was cutting off the crusts…

And then a little boy holding a teddy bear made bumbled into the kitchen. What –

“Mummy, am hungry. Sandwich please?“

She smiled at him. “Almost done, Dev. Don’t worry.” She reached down and ruffled his hair. “Also, I got a letter from Daddy this morning! How about we read it once we’re done eating?”

He nodded enthusiastically, even though it was rather obvious he didn’t quite understand.

Dear God. He couldn’t be more than two or three years at the most. Peter doubted he even remembered this actively.

He watched as Dev devoured his sandwich, smiling against his will. Dev had been so cute.

Then, Mrs. Thursday sat down with him on the sofa. “You remember Daddy is away to make the world a safer place, right, Devy?”

_Devy_? Another smile he couldn’t suppress.

He nodded as he clutched his bear, even though again he probably didn’t really know his dad right now.

“Dear Win and Dev….”

What followed was a letter many a man had written home during the war – safe for now, food could be better, we’ll be home before you know it – but somehow, it seemed more important. Dev was staring at his mother with big eyes.

When Mrs. Thursday was done, she had tears in her eyes and Dev looked up at her and frowned. “Mummy no” he said, pointing at the letter, “Daddy fine.”

She sniffed and kissed his head.

“Daddy fine” he repeated in the voice of someone who one, still wasn’t entirely sure what a daddy was but got that his well-being was rather essential to mummy’s happiness, and two, had yet to understand that letters needed their time to arrive and that therefore, there was every possibility that Daddy was _not_ fine anymore.

She kissed him again then pulled him into her arms and went to settle him down for a nap in his cot next to her bed.

Small wonder they had always been so close.

She was reading him to sleep when someone knocked on the door and a woman Peter correctly identified from the pictures Dev had shown him as his paternal grandmother entered. “How’s he doing?” she asked quietly.

“Good as gold, and better” Mrs. Thursday replied in the same tone, stroking the hair of her dozing boy. “I take it you got a letter from Fred as well?”

She nodded. “He’s doing fine” unconsciously echoing her grandson. Then, she carefully added, “As are you, dear. I know it can’t be easy, with the rumours flying around and him not being your own flesh and blood –“

“He is” she interrupted her, still looking at Dev, love shining through her eyes. “He is, as if I had given birth to him myself. You don’t know how much he helps me; I doubt I’d be as calm as I am if I didn’t have him to take care of. And he’s _such_ a ray of sunshine.”

As opposed to Morse, Peter suddenly remembered, and shook himself out of his reverie.

Was it that what Mnemosyne had meant – that he risked getting lost in Dev’s mind?

Well, this would not do. He had to move on.

And he’d find him, even if he had to go through every single memory of his thirty-three years on this earth.

With one last look at mother and son – for such they were, and would always be – he left the house he now recognized must be the one Dev grew up in in London.

Not quite Oxford after all. A mixture of everywhere he’d lived.

Alright, then.

Peter Jakes knew Endeavour Thursday probably better than anyone else in this world, and so, he told himself, he should be able to orientate himself.

He almost believed it.

**One week ago**

**It had been three very long, excruciating weeks. And Peter didn’t mean having to run the Guard by his own; no, that was easy enough, really, he’d had enough practice with Dev. **

**But none of that had ever prepared for Dev to just… not be there anymore. **

**He sat in his office and stared at their connecting door, feeling very alone. Normally he’d just have to knock to talk to his best friend…**

**He sighed when a knock rang out on his door invested. He recognized it well. “Come in, Lieutenant”. **

**“Sorry sir, a few files that need your signature…”**

**He sighed to himself once more. If there was one part of Dev’s duties he didn’t particularly care for, it was that. **

* * *

**There were days when Joan thought she was going to go insane. On those days she mostly concentrated on the accounts and hoped for the best. **

**Sam was a silent support at her side, as usual these days. **

**She looked down at the numbers and tried very hard not to resent Peter Jakes for being named first in all their cases in the past month. He could hardly help it. **

**She stared at a file and realized she’d been reading the same line for several minutes now., **

**“Sam, I need some air. I’ll go get us tea.”**

**He looked at her and nodded, with eyes that were too empty and too hopeless. **

**She fled. **

**She had to be the strong one, she knew. Normally, they would have looked to Dev for guidance, but with him gone (** _for the moment, just for the moment_ ** she told herself) she was the oldest. **

**Should have been easy, right? After all, she had believed herself to be the oldest Thursday child for fifteen years. **

**But it wasn’t. Because now, she remembered; remembered scraping her knee and running to Dev to make it better, remembered asking for help with her homework, remembered him always being there when she wanted to play, or complain about Mum or Dad, or was just bored. **

**He used to be there, and he should have been there now. **

**She walked out of headquarters – it would have been useless to try and get anyone to speak to her, anyway – and onto the street. **

**She knew she should probably eat her sandwich. Mum would have been concerned if she didn’t. **

**She made her way to the park where she’d usually spent her lunch hour when she was still working at the Bank. **

**She didn’t expect to see Dev, but there was, at the other side of the street, walking with his head lowered, not looking at anyone. **

**She stared at her sandwich, suddenly having lost the little appetite she had left. **

**“Miss Thursday?”**

**She’d had no idea that he had seen her, and looked up helplessly. “Hello, Morse.”**

**“Is everything alright?” he asked. “You look… concerned.”**

**She was rather sure she looked worse than that, but he was too polite to say so. **

**And so she swallowed. “I – there is – some personal stuff that’s going on.” She couldn’t lie to him openly. She ** _couldn’t_ **. Not even for his own good. Even when she was worried that he’d seize up. **

**“I see.” A pause. He shuffled his feet. “Well, if you ever need help –“**

_I know. You have been helping me since I was born, Dev. I know. _

_I miss you. _

**“Yes, thank you, Morse.”**

**He nodded at her then bid her an awkward goodbye. **

**But just as he turned around she heard him quietly say, “It’ll be fine, Joanie.”**

_Joanie!?_

**“Sorry, what was that?”**

**He blinked at her. “I didn’t say anything.” And then he left for real. **

**She watched him leave. Nut there was hope strong in her breast. **

_He called me Joanie. I didn’t imagine it. He called me Joanie. _

_Dev is still in there. _

* * *

**Something was going on with the Thursdays, Morse decided as he walked away from his impromptu meeting with Miss Thursday. It wasn’t his place to pry, of course, not with their nephew and cousin apparently fighting for his life.**

**He was after all just DI Thursday’s bagman, no one special to him. **

**And yet – **

**If only he knew more. **

**He had no idea that the very “Miss Thursday” he was contemplating was wishing the same. **

* * *

**Win was worried about her children. That in itself was no surprise, of course, but right now she was rather thinking about Joan and Sam, as opposed to Dev for once. **

**Sam had grown so utterly quiet, and Joan was trying to shoulder all the responsibilities she believed were those of the oldest siblings. **

**Win stared at the picture on then mantel; they had taken it last month. How she missed that easy smile on Dev’s face. **

**Once they had him back, she would make very sure to see it every single day for the rest of her life. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally know how many chapters there will be!

He somehow had to make Dev remember, he decided as he strolled down the streets of not-quite-Oxford, not-quite-London. And he would have to make sure he didn’t lose himself in the process. Alright, then.

He was going to be damned if he lost his best friend just because he couldn’t keep it together.

And on he pressed.

There – a train station. Undoubtedly a London one. Peter went in because something told him he had to – something told him the journey was as important as the destination – that he had to find Dev through a string of memories.

And there were young Mrs. Thursday again, and little Dev, now older, their breaths fogging in the air; he huddled close to her, undoubtedly a little scared of all the strangers around.

Her face lit up. “Fred!”

She didn’t run to him, probably because of the child that was still clinging to her leg, but sometimes a look could say as much as any other gesture, and there was nothing but love in her gaze as her husband swept towards her.

“Win!”

He kissed her and Peter almost had to look away. There was so much relief, such simple joy in the face he knew much better with lines of worry and care edged into it.

Then, he carefully took a step back and looked at his son. “Hello, Dev.”

He shuffled his feet and, still staring at the ground, said, “Hello, Daddy.”

Mrs. Thursday was glancing between them, obviously eager for them to reach some form of rapport, and DI – no, wait, he would be a sergeant, or even still a constable now, wouldn’t he? Cleared his throat. “Well, then. Let me take a good look at you.”

No reaction.

Peter was wondering how they could ever have grown close when the future DI in a stroke of genius added, “I see Mummy’s been taking good care of you”.

That made his whole little face light up, and he finally moved towards his father. “Looking after one another” he said firmly, probably a line Mrs. Thursday had fed him.

Thursday chuckled. “So I gather”.

He held out his hand. Dev studied it for a moment, then took it.

Thursday then seemingly surprised him by ruffling his hair, startling Dev into laughter.

Peter left when it became clear Mrs. Thursday was trying to hold back tears.

* * *

Somehow, he ended up in a park he didn’t recognize. Peter supposed Dev must have come here all the time as a kid; God knew if he had been able to, he would have.

Dev must have been around eight years old and was sitting on a bench, carefully leafing through a book. Mrs. And Mr. Thursday were prepared a picknick not far from him, under a tree.

Peter stepped up to them.

“Shouldn’t he have more friends?” he was asking, shooting Dev a worried look.

Their voices were faint – Dev had probably never known that he had picked up their talk.

“Or wanting to kick a ball around or something like that? I mean –“

“Fred Thursday, I swear to God if you are going to complain that our boy isn’t normal or something silly like that –“

“That’s not it, Win” he pleaded, “I just want him to be happy.”

“And what makes you think that he isn’t?”

“I – “ he obviously didn’t know what to say, and it was probably a good thing that Dev skipped up to them with a bright grin at that exact moment. “Dad, I finished another story!”

He’d probably read between the lines of Mrs. Thursday’s not-so-subtle nudge, because he cleared his throat. “Did you, now? Why don’t you tell me about it, son?”

And Peter watched his worries being washed away as Dev moved close to him to explain, his eyes sparkling.

And he wasn’t just watching the scene. Some of the feelings Dev had experienced – safety and happiness and love – some of that, a few echoes, were filling it up, almost making it hard to breathe.

He suddenly wondered if this was what it felt like to be part of a family.

He abruptly turned around and all but fled.

* * *

And he was back at the house Dev had grown up in for twelve years.

He looked about ten, now. He had obviously just come home from school and was hanging up his jacket carefully.

“Dev?” Mrs. Thursday’s voice from the kitchen.

“Yes, Mum, I’m coming.”

Peter followed him because there was nothing else he could do.

She had just finished making lunch and was standing at the stove, worrying her lip.

“Mum?” Dev, perceptive as ever, asked. “Is everything alright?”

She sat down and motioned or him to do the same. “Dev” she then began carefully, “I’m pregnant. Do you know what that means?”

He looked confused for a second, then grinned. “I’m going to be a big brother?”

She nodded.

As the questions rattled down on her – when was she going to have the baby, was the baby okay, could he play with the baby – he saw her relax. She’d probably been worried that he’d be jealous.

Onwards he went.

* * *

Finally, he arrived at the house he’d come to know as the Thursdays’. Another small version of Dev was making his way downstairs, looking haggard and older than his years.

Thursday, sitting in the living room, didn’t look much better. “You should be in bed” he said when Dev stepped up to him. “School tomorrow.”

“Sammy is still too hot” he said in a rush, “And Mum can’t put him down and Joanie climbed into my bed and is asleep now… is Sammy going to go away like Carter did?”

The look Thursday gave him would have broken anyone’s heart. “Not if I can help it.”

Dev stared at him with the expression of a child who had just come to understand that sometimes, parents, and even invincible dads who worked for the police, _couldn’t_ help it, and for a moment Peter wondered if he would storm off, but then he moved toward Thursday, who took him into his arms.

“Sammy’ll get better. That’s what we got Mum for”.

“Alright” he mumbled against his shirt.

Thursday ruffled his hair, worry still marring his feature, and the sergeant turned away.

* * *

Memory after memory. There was the Thursday home and a London street that spoke of loneliness and distress that made him almost run away, and the Council Hall in the capital, where he opened a door to find Dev and the Chairman.

He was still so very young, and had only just lost everyone he held dear.

It was snowing outside. A mistletoe the Chairman seemed to tolerate more than actually want hung from the ceiling.

Oh dear. Christmas. Probably the first without his family.

“I have been told you’re doing well with your studies, Endeavour”.

He was twitching around in his seat, and the sergeant wondered if he’d already learned that the Chairman didn’t often offer people one. “I do what I can”. He was looking down at his hands as he said it.

“So I gathered. Still – well done.”

He nodded, still not looking at him.

The Chairman was studying him when a strange expression crossed his face, and the – he realized once more – why he’d told him to bring Dev home, why he’d made himself so sparse.

_You care. You care about him. You didn’t expect to, not like this, but here you are. _

“I – “ he cleared his throat. “For what it is worth… I am sure that if the could remember, your parents would be proud of you.”

Small wonder he sounded stilted and uncomfortable; it was the first time he had ever heard him trying to honestly comfort someone.

“Thank you” Dev replied flatly and, to his own surprise apparently, the Chairman didn’t chastise him.

* * *

He watched Dev struggling to build up the Guard and keep a brave façade whenever someone inquired after his family, where he came from.

He had never known how many lonely nights his friend had spent, always assuming that Dev had been a popular as he was from the beginning. It had perhaps been a naïve thing to believe, but Dev had never really talked about the years between losing his family and meeting – meeting –

He suddenly realized he couldn’t remember his own name anymore, and that it perhaps didn’t worry him as much as it should have.

* * *

Dev was quickly walking down the street, and the man without a name, whose sole purpose in life seemed to be to follow him, did so, having to walk quickly, which was kind of funny because he was – he was – somewhere where he didn’t really walk, wasn’t he?

And then Dev attacked a vampire to save a young man who seemed strangely familiar.

* * *

He stumbled into Dev’s office in London again. He was looking at a file, closed it then put it away. “Might as well try” he mumbled, “Can’t work alone forever.”

And he set off, the feeling of hope in the air almost tangible.

If he could have remembered, the nameless man would have realized just how important the decision Dev had just made would become for both of them.

But then, he would probably have realized a few other things.

Like the fact that he could no longer remember anyone’s but Dev’s name.

* * *

This time, the feeling associated with the scene almost knocked him over.

He was at the Cowley station at Oxford, which he knew well because of – some reason; and Dev was staring at the sergeant who was holding a receiver, at the corresponding phone, and there was despair and hope and love and and and –

He rushed towards it, the Old Man still clutching the picture of his children.

The man who looked so familiar was watching them, carefully guarding his expression, it seemed.

Dev grabbed the receiver like a drowning man the saving hand.

Something about this was important, he could tell.

* * *

It was dark; it was Dev’s family’s home. The Old Man was sitting up, apparently waiting for something or someone; and soon enough, Dev slipped into the room.

“Some things never change.”

The joke fell flat, but then, everything about this seemed tentative, as if they were still getting used to being a family again.

“Been busy the last few days” Dev eventually said.

“I noticed”.

A pause.

Then the Old Man continued, “Still got enough time for Jakes, though, it seems.”

_Jakes_. Something about the name seemed –

“He’s my second-in-command, Dad.” The word sounded almost rusty with misuse after all these years. “We were working the case.”

“Still – your siblings’d be glad to spend some more time with you, son.”

“I’d like that too” he relied quietly and honestly. “I’ll be sure to take the weekend off.”

“All I could ask for.” After a moment of silence he added, “I am sure Jakes –“

“He’s my best friend, Dad” he suddenly interrupted him. “I couldn’t have gone through – all of this without him by my side.”

“Funny thing” he said carefully, lighting his pipe, “But he told me the same thing himself.”

Dev smiled. “Peter tends to underestimate himself.”

Amend the man without a name felt like he had been struck by lightning.

Peter.

_Peter_.

Peter!

That was his name.

He was Peter Jakes, and he was going to get his best friend Endeavour Thursday out of here.

And then, suddenly, he felt it.

Their bond, as strong and clear as it had ever been, calling out to him.

Now he knew where to go.

And he ran out of the house. “Dev! I’m coming! Hold on!”

_Just a little while longer, and I will be there, I swear it – _

* * *

Finally. There it was. Fred half-expected the door to be locked to him, by magic or other means, but instead it immediately opened when he reached it.

He stormed upstairs, although he would later be unable to say why. Normally he would have carefully searched every room. Instead he ran up to the attic and wrenched a door open.

He stared at the scene in front of him.

**Two years ago**

_Oh. He must have fallen asleep at Peter’s once more. Well, it had happened countless times already, and would undoubtedly happen again. _

_Dev got up and stretched, the stillness of the flat telling him that his friend wasn’t up yet. All the time in the world to make breakfast, then. _

_As he did so, he contemplated the day that lay ahead. It was still early – shortly after sunset; maybe he could drop by headquarters before picking up Dad…_

_Peter eventually stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. “Never get bloody enough sleep, do you” he muttered. _

_He shrugged. “Was awake, so figured I might as well make food.” Mum had always been after him to eat more, simply because he was naturally skinny. _

_She even looked after him now, didn’t she? The only reason he resisted was because he knew he couldn’t let himself get lost in it too much, lest he gave himself away. _

_No that it would matter in the long run – they would forget again – but while they remembered, they would suffer, and he refused to let that happen. _

_“Thanks” Peter said as he accepted the cup of tea he offered him, “Probably should head to headquarters soon, so you can be in time to pick up your father.”_

_He nodded since he had been thinking the same, then suddenly realized that he had no idea _why_ they had to go to headquarters. _

_In the next moment, the thought had slipped out of his head again, like water off a duck. _

_They took one of the Guard’s cars that was usually either parked near his or Peter’s place. _

_Dev kept wondering what was troubling him. Everything was going well – or as well as things could go, with everything that was happening; none of his family had remembered and forgotten him again in quite a while; things were working out in the Guard; he had Peter as his friend and confidant; and there was always, always the possibility, the hope, that he would get back his family eventually. _

_He just didn’t get it. _

_“Everything alright?”_

_Fr course Petr had noticed. He probably wouldn’t have been able to hide this from him if he’d tried. “Feeling a bit off.”_

_“Probably the late night.”_

_But why did we have a late night, Dev wondered, and why did he fall asleep on your sofa to begin with? And when?_

_And then that thought was gone, too. _

* * *

_Sally had been on the night shift and immediately stepped up to them to report. _

_Dev was grateful for the distraction; for the feeling of _wrongness_ continued. Thankfully, it seemed that Peter believed everything was fine after their talk. _

_Because it was. It was fine. But that didn’t mean Dev’s instincts weren’t crying out, and if there was one thing he had learned to trust, it were his instincts. _

_He blinked and suddenly he was sitting in his office. Surely he hadn’t forgotten the walk there, and that file he was looking down on…_

_Peter knocked on their connecting door, he closed the file and didn’t think about it anymore. _

_All he remembered at that moment was that it was time to pick up Dad, and he reminded himself to once more wear his mask of Constable Morse _– be friendly but not too familiar, interested but not nosy, look at the house like your boss’ home and not your own.

_Later that day, when he returned to headquarters, he would absent-mindedly grab the file and take it with him to the archive. _

_And for two years, no one would think about it or Mnemosyne or Lethe again. _


	22. Chapter 22

When the pain had stopped, Fred was leaning against a wall, panting, trying not to think, because if he started _thinking_ about what this meant, he might come up with an explanation that would overwhelm all his faculties at once.

No. He refused to consider the possibility that his child might be gone. They had only _just_ gotten him back; fate couldn’t be so cruel to take him away again so soon.

Only Fred knew every well that fate could indeed be this cruel and was so on a regular basis.

No. Concentrate. Find the house.

And so, when he did, he simply acted on his instincts.

And now, here he was, with both his son and his son’s best friend unconscious in front of him – yes, unconscious; for Dev’s breast was moving, he was breathing.

He tried to rouse them, but to no avail; and when he tried to get help he found that the door had closed behind him and wouldn’t budge, no matter what he did.

_Oh God. _

He ran back to them.

Dev’s pulse was growing fainter with each passing second, and he gathered him in his arms, whether to hold onto or to comfort him, he couldn’t say.

With trepidation, he realized that all he could do was wait, just like when the kiddies had been small and come down with a fever – just like then, when Sammy had been doing so badly and Dev had come to him for comfort…

He held on tight and prayed, _I know I don’t have magic. I have no idea if any of you gods who are responsible for magical folk are listening. But this is my son, and if I am right, Peter Jakes is just risking everything he has to bring him back, so watch over them, please. Watch over them. I am begging you. _

* * *

_I am coming for you, Dev, so you better be holding on._

Peter was not about to let any guardian that showed up stop him. He had lived for a month without his best friend and Captain, he had almost lost himself in said best friend’s memories, he had no idea what he was doing, but he would be bloody damned if he let any of those facts stop him.

Mostly because – well, that last memory – there had been no reason for Dev’s mind to show it to him when it did, unless it was trying to help him. Unless part of Dev knew he was here.

The question was, with these new memories of Morse being the dominant ones, where would the real Dev, the Dev who knew what was going on and must be waiting for him somewhere, be? Where could he possibly go?

_Alright, think. This is Oxford. Unreal or not, magical or not, not quite the same or not, this is still Oxford, Dev’s city. You know it. You have seen it through his eyes -. All these historical places he dragged you to, you let him drag you to when you first arrived… where would he be?_

But, really, in the end, there was only one place. One Peter had already visited… but not at the right time, or rather, only to see memories instead of finding his friend.

Where had Dev wanted to go for fifteen long years?

That answer was easy enough.

Home.

He took a deep breath and started walking towards the Thursday house once more. He’d allowed himself to get distracted by the memories, by the scenes of a happy family life he had never known.

It was time to see and find Dev.

* * *

Fred looked around the room. He couldn’t help it; he was a copper, had been for decades, and so he automatically started looking for clues.

The room was empty, but it felt like it hadn’t been. Fred had come to recognize rooms that had previously been occupied.

What had happened? Peter had talked about Mnemosyne, and that there had been a cold case Dev and he had forgotten about. That was easily enough to do with magic, as Fred was by now well aware. Just because Dev was careful with the spells he performed didn’t mean he didn’t know about the harm such powers could cause.

So this had all just been about revenge. There was something awfully ironic about the fact that Dev had managed to resist the temptation to exact it on those who had hurt him for fifteen long years and that apparently this ancient being hadn’t managed to control herself for _two_.

He stroked his son’s hair, wishing Win was here. She’d know what to do; she’d always been the… well, in a way, now that he remembered the vocabulary, the healer of the family. She didn’t have magic, and never had; but she had always managed to comfort their children. And of course she and Dev had always had a special connection from living through the war together.

But still… he and Dev – they had had their night talks.

“I’m here, son” he said, still stroking his hair, “I know I wasn’t for a long time even though I promised. But I’m here now.” He glanced at Peter. “Looking after your second-in-command, too; know you wouldn’t like it if I didn’t. But you need to come home to us, Dev. I know it…” he trailed off for a second, then continued, “I know it may seem only fair to make us wait. How could it not? You had to fight out on your own out there for so long… but please. Your Mum needs you, and so do Joanie and Sam. And I… I keep sitting on the sofa, waiting for you to pop in like you always used to do.”

Dev’s pulse was still faint, but it didn’t seem to be growing weaker for the moment, at least.

He held on. It was all he could do.

* * *

This felt… different than when he had been here before. More real, even though that didn’t make any sense… mostly because well – nothing of this was real. It was all inside his best friends’ mind, but then… He knew this place, didn’t he? They had trusted each other with their secrets for so long…

Yes, there was the Thursday house again, but it looked… well…

It didn’t look _perfect_ anymore; like a child would imagine it – no; it looked like the house Dev had been so desperate to return to in the real world as the lost son.

Yes. He felt that Dev was in there, waiting for him; could almost sense their connection reaching out –

And then he got attacked by a giant dog with three heads.

* * *

Dev didn’t know where he was, but he felt that he was safe.

No; that wasn’t true; he was at home, wasn’t he? He was sitting in the living room of his true home…

But there was something that was troubling him. For one, where was his family, and why was he here in the middle of the day?

And no – there was something else – Peter with blood on his side and a painful expression on his face, and Dev trying his best to clean the wound; but that had been some time ago, hadn’t it, but why was he only thinking about it now –

And _what was that noise!?_

He frowned and forced himself to listen.

And then he knew.

* * *

He should have known. He should have bloody known.

After all, what was more logical to an ancient Greek Goddess than using _Cerberus_ as a guardian?

Still, he could have lived without Cerberus trying to use him as a chew toy.

He wondered what would happen if he was devoured. Would he wake up, just without his mind? Would he be a living vegetable, locked away because no one could bring themselves to do away with him?

Not that it mattered – this was Dev they were talking about, and he had to try and safe him no matter what.

_Alright, he told himself, you know these stories. Is there anything – _

Another snap that almost got him and he only managed to duck just in time.

The stories. Think of the stories.

Alright. Cerberus. Had to be conquered by Hercules with the weapons he carried.

Great. He had nothing.

No. That wasn’t true. Yes, Hercules had had his strength, but Peter had magic, and he could feel the connection he and Dev they shared, which meant he could use it here.

Granted, he didn’t know what this could potentially do to Dev’s mind, but…

And then, for the first time in almost a month, he heard the Captain of the Guard.

“Peter!”

* * *

No. his wasn’t possible.

Peter was wrestling a dog with three heads – _Cerberus, that was Cerberus_ – on their lawn.

No. Not their lawn. This didn’t feel – this didn’t feel _real_, somehow, and yet more real than anything he had ever seen.

It was confusing, but Dev was used to that.

As he was used to either of them needing help, so he rushed to do just that. “Peter!”

* * *

This wasn’t what he had wanted. He’d meant to find Dev without him having to be involved in any fights. He wouldn’t risk him being injured; what if he woke up and all he had was the broken shell of his best friend – if he had made everything worse? The Thursdays would never forgive him, and neither would Peter do so himself.

“Dev, you have to –“

He grabbed him and dragged him out of the way just in time. “Where are we?” he asked matter-of-factly.

“It’s a long story, but we’re in your mind. We need to get out of here!”

“And probably deal with this first. Wouldn’t feel comfortable with him running around in my head” he replied.

Of course he wasn’t even slightly confused by what had happened, or rather, by what Peter had just told him. He was too used to strange things happening. “You got that right” he said, his throat constricting.

This was Dev. Finally, this was Dev. No matter what happened, right now he had him back.

“So Cerberus..” he mused while the dog was sniffing around. “Seems to me like he’s a bit confused. Small wonder, since he wouldn’t have expected to have more than one entire consciousness before him – others would just have used spells or mirages.”

“You can say that again. This is rather unusual, even for us.”

He was trapped in the mind of his best friend. There was a beast looking for them. He had no idea what would come next.

And yet it didn’t matter one bit. He was the Commander of the Guard and was once more working with his Captain.

They were used to this. They had always won to this day. They would make it out of here.

“Hercules had to use the weapons he carried” Dev mused. “And we have magic.”

He nodded since he had just thought the same.

Dev held out his hand. “Seems like we should combine pour magic once more.”

He grasped it.

As he felt their bond properly, he relaxed for the first time since Dev had collapsed.

And together, they reached out to whatever they could find.

* * *

Something was happening.

Fred cursed his fate that had him missing out on fifteen years of experience with magic and his son learning how to be the Captain of the Guard. He might have known what was going on then or at least had a hunch.

But so, all he had to hang unto was hope. 

Dev was trembling, although it wasn’t like any of the seizures he had seen before.

Peter was moving to, mouthing words he couldn’t understand. Yes, something was definitely going on.

During one of their night talks, Dev had confided in him that he and Peter’s magic shared a connection, probably due to having worked so closely together for years. Fred hadn’t quite understood what that meant, but it seemed they were going through the same, and he could only hope they had found each other.

At least he desperately prayed they had.

He would never know what made him look to the left but he saw the lane and somehow instinctively knew what to do.

He gently put it into Peter’s hands, since he seemed to be the more likely one to have brought it with him.

And then he waited.

**One week ago**

**One week from now, it would be a month since Dev had been taken from them. **

**At least, Peter thought, the Guard was doing well, and then realized that he was actually kind of feeling angry about it. It just seemed… unkind. The other members of the Guard should be feeling lost too, like Peter and the Thursday family. **

**Not that he had any right to identify himself with his flesh and blood. **

**And yet…**

**He had to do something before he went bloody mad. **

**He thought of the Old Man, angrier and angrier by the day. Of Mrs. Thursday, looking more haggard and worried every time she looked at Dev and saw that he had no idea what she were to each other; and of his siblings, who were desperate for their older brother to show up and explain everything away again, like he had done so often. **

**Yes. Something needed to be done, and quickly. **

**He got up from his desk and left headquarters. “I’ll be at Cowley station.”**

**The others knew him too well to try and approach him. **

* * *

**Peter hadn’t realized how bad he was doing himself today until he entered the squad room and saw Dev and desperately wished that he would recognize him for who he truly was. **

_Look at me. Call me by my first name. We’ve been through so much together, you and I. And I know you haven’t forgotten. You broke through whatever spell she put on you just a short time ago_ ** (at least he thought so. It seemed strangely hazy when he thought about it, probably because he had been injured at the time). _Come on._ **

**He actually wanted to shake him. **

**He fought down the wave of fury and suddenly felt ashamed and drained. **

**Very slowly, he walked over to his desk and sat down heavily. He couldn’t afford to think like this. He was the Commander of the Guard, and he had to make sure things didn’t fall apart so Dev would come back to a functioning city. **

**And so he did. **

**Later that day, they thankfully found an excuse for Peter to go and spend the rest of the afternoon in the headquarters, so he wouldn’t have to deal with this. That’s not what DI Thursday told him, of course, but he definitely meant it. **

**Peter must look worse than he had thought. Or perhaps the Old Man was worried about his son. It was all too understandable, given the seizures. **

**And so, Peter repaired to his office and very much did not keep throwing their connecting door glances because he was actual adult who could ** _deal with this. _

**Memories, he told himself for the umpteenth time, memories. **

**But this time, he calmed down and closed his eyes. He had never much believed in meditation, but he knew that Dev sometimes enjoyed to simply calm down and let everything wash over him. **

**So he did that and allowed his thoughts to slip through his mind without focusing on a certain one. Without meaning to – perhaps because it was the first time he had managed to relax – he drifted off into a light doze. **

**Sally came in a little while later and decided to let him rest for once. **

**And, unbeknownst to him, in the back of his mind, the memory of what Dev had told him got to work and would make him go to the archive and look for a file he had no idea was even there to begin with. **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do like my Greek mythology.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An early chapter and the penultimate one! Who is excited?

At first, he thought it was their old connection that left him feeling like he was holding a weapon in his other hand.

Then he opened his eyes and realized there was the lance he had brought. What –

“Is that the Lance of Diomedes?” Dev asked.

He nodded. “Took it with me.”

“You remembered, then.”

“Only bits and pieces. It’s all clear now, though.”

Dev smiled as if it made sense. “The weapon you brought, then.”

And it all fell into place. “Oh. Well, you better stay back, then.”

“Peter, I am –“

“You are Theseus” he said firmly. “Remember the story? When Hercules went into the Underworld to get Cerberus and freed someone? You are Theseus. You are to be brought back into life.”

He surprised him with a laugh. “You know, Peter, that’s something I would expect _me_ to say.”

“All the more reason for me to be right, then.” Fear made him hesitate, though. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

He could feel their bond, yes, but Dev was uncharacteristically careless, if you asked him.

“Yes, I am” he confirmed, squeezing his hand before letting go. “But I told you – I have no reason to worry when my best man’s on the case.”

He took a deep breath as he watched Dev retreat into the relative safety of the house.

Yes, they were still trapped in his mind, and there was a lethal feral dog with three heads, but he had a lance, and he wasn’t going to let anything happen to either of them.

´Alright then. Time to shine.

He dived into the street, shouting as he did so. “Come on! I’m here!” He stopped short of actually calling himself Hercules, since that would have seemed rather silly to him, but he imagined Cerberus got it, for he suddenly heard him howl and knew things were about to come to a head.

He could do this. He could do this. He wasn’t about to lose now, after everything they had been through.

And so he launched.

* * *

Dev was used to being the one to run into dangerous situations the second they presented themselves, the one who took charge.

And yet here he was, standing in what he now knew _not_ to be his family home’s living room, watching through the window as his second-in-command battled the monster.

But Peter was right. There were rules, and there were stories, and there was magic.

And Dev wasn’t the hero. He was the damsel in distress. He was Theseus, trapped in chains, waiting for Hercules to come along and save him.

At least he hoped so. It would be terrible for Peter to go through all of this only for Dev to turn out to be wrong.

He knew he was slightly delirious. Part of that had to do with finally being himself again, and part had to do with their bond being restored.

The last time he had remembered, Peter had told him it had been about a week. He didn’t know how much time had passed since then, but it must have been longer, or Peter wouldn’t have been so desperate to find him as to enter his mind. God only knew what could have happened.

He watched – well –

He supposed he was the argus-eyed one now, the one who could do nothing _but_ watch.

Still, he vowed that he’d do what he needed to do to bring them both back home.

* * *

_Alright, you hell beast_, Peter thought (rather too aware that Dev would have corrected him immediately because _Hades was never Hell, Peter, only the early Christians made it so because they were afraid of what they did not understand_), _I’m tired of this. We’ve all been through enough, time to bring him home. _

“Well?” he challenged Cerberus.

It was standing near him, studying him with its six red eyes.

Oh yes. It damn well knew that Peter had no reason to be here, probably because it didn’t, either.

And so he jumped.

* * *

Cerberus was, sadly, surprisingly swift for a huge dog and Peter missed, only to have to roll to safety when it decided to attack immediately.

Peter got backed against the house and Dev, not even knowing if it would work or not, instinctively used a spell to get him out of the way of the next attempt of Cerberus to chew him up.

* * *

Dev’s magic was so very welcome after all these weeks of it having been buried deep that Peter barely even noticed that he’d almost been eaten.

And so he dodged and tried and thought.

_There _has_ to be a vulnerable spot. Mythology or not, we are still talking stories. Mnemosyne is, after all, about memory. And memories… what are they other than stories? And monsters _always_ have their vulnerable spots. _

And there.

Right over his breastbone, Cerberus had a white spot.

_Hah. Got you. _

Well, not quite yet, but still.

He needed a distraction.,

Luckily, there was an experienced officer of the Guard watching who knew just what to do.

* * *

Peter was about to pounce, Dev could tell. He hadn’t worked with him for so long without learning his tells.

He had seen something, something that he thought meant he could deal with this.

Now all Dev had to do was to give him time.

And so he closed his eyes and summoned as much of his magic as he could.

* * *

Cerberus stopped and stared, then whined – actually _whined_ – in confusion.

Peter glanced behind his shoulder and realized several mirages of himself had suddenly appeared and were now busy running into all directions.

_Thanks, Dev_, he thought quickly before moving.

Cerberus was snapping at all of the images of Peter Jakes (later he would think that he should have been more confused from seeing himself than he was, but then again, he didn’t really have the time to be).

He dived down under the beast, summoned all his strength and lunched the lance into the white spot.

* * *

Cerberus roared and roared and Dev prepared himself to perform another spell when he saw Peter already ducking away.

He ran towards the front door and opened it, dragging him inside. “You did it!”

Peter looked at him then, with eyes that had gone too far and seen too much for his years, and swallowed before laughing. “I did, didn’t I?”

He drew him into a quick hug. “Let’s check it out.”

Cerberus was busy slowly crumbling into nothing. Very soon, he would be gone without anyone being able to tell that it had been there.

Dev picked up the lance. “Real or not, better not leave that lying around. Time to go home.”

“You know how to do that?” Peter asked, looking tired. Apparently, the last month was finally catching up with him.

That was alright. Dev was back to make sure he took a break, now.

He held out his hand. “Don’t worry about it. This is my mind, isn’t it? And despite everything, I haven’t managed to lose it yet.”

Peter gave him a weak smile.

“Plus, if there is anything I have learned, Peter, its’s that basically nothing is impossible when we put our heads together.”

He nodded, then took his offered hand.

**Two years ago**

_She fled before she could watch her friend crumble to dust. _

_She had tried, as the mortals would have said, to save Lethe., She truly had tried. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t felt their frustration over the millennia; she, too had been frustrated, and angry, and saddened in turn. _

_They had been gods. The mortals had chosen them, thought of them, dreamed of them, only for them to be forgotten in the end. _

_The mortals would have called it ironic that Lethe had taken it worse than Mnemosyne. They, who had always been dreamed of as…_

_And now here they were, squatting away in Oxford. _

_Staying in Greece would have been too much, for both of them. There, where altars had burned with sacrifices to them and now had been destroyed or buried under centuries of neglect… No, it would have been impossible. _

_They had stayed together, of course. There had been nothing else to do. From the first, they had been part of the same stories, the rives that had run through the Underworld had been made of almost the same water; they were each other’s, they belonged to each other. _

_And now?_

_She only felt like half now. Half of what she had been. _

_She had tried, she had tried to explain to the mortals, she had begged them, and they hadn’t listened to her. _

_To her. A goddess. Where would they be, if not for her and her daughters? Still living in caves, that was the truth. She had given them art, and music, and statues, she had, through her children, made sure there as so much more beauty in the world. _

_And they had taken Lethe from her, the one thing that had always belonged with her. _

_As she fled, she only knew one thing: she would have her revenge on them. _

* * *

_Until now, Mnemosyne had not paid much attention to the lives of the mortals of Oxford. It was Lethe who had kept her informed, and that had been quite enough for her. After all, they were not like them or their stories; it may take years, yes, but they all would perish eventually. _

_Even someone as vile as Octavia Stevens (Mnemosyne had never thought much of those who went after their own kind) wasn’t entirely immortal. _

_Now, Lethe had of course been fascinated by the stories that were told about the Captain of the Guard – how could she not have been, Mnemosyne thought with a sad smile, with his family forgetting he existed? It was exactly the kind of thing she would have to know everything about. _

_That was her Lethe. _

_Had been, she suddenly remembered with a wave of pain she had never felt before. _Had been.

_Yes. They had to pay. _

_The first thing she had to make sure – that very night – was that they wouldn’t remember what had happened. That should be easy enough. They were both fast asleep in the other man’s – Lethe had said he was the Commander, so the Captain’s best man, presumable – flat. After poking around in their memories, she realized that they at least hadn’t told anyone else yet. _

_Good, then. No problems there. _

_She could have harmed them right there, of course, but she needed to find out what would be the most appropriate punishment first. She had never watched the mortals as closely as Lethe had, so she didn’t really have much experience; and anyway, she had always taken her time when she could afford it. _

_And so she decided to watch them. _

* * *

_Doing so, she quickly realized that the Captain was suffering more under his family not recognizing him than he let on. She thought the Commander might suspect as much, but she wasn’t entirely sure; those mortal emotions were all over the place, one of the reasons she had never bothered with them. _

_So this was the worst thing that had ever happened to the Captain, it seemed. And the Commander… well, she’d taken a peak at his other memories, and it was rather clear there was enough to torture him with there. _

_But then she realized. _

_The man’s memories of the last decade or so were decidedly happier than the proceeding ones. Not that he hadn’t suffered, but there had been something, or rather someone who had helped him through the difficult times. _

Must feel nice to have such a friend_, she thought angrily. _

_Ad then she knew just how she was going to revenge herself. _

_They had taken Lethe away from her. _

_She would wait. Wait until the Captain had his family back – _

_And then she would take _him_ away from _them_ and they would watch as he died a slow, painful, lonely death. _

_So she settled down and did keep an eye on them, and finally, Octavia Stevens was vanquished and the Captain returned home. _

_Not for long, though. _

_She had promised Lethe. And Mnemosyne never forgot a promise. _

_But she would break it, the day she looked at the Commander and realized she had become the monster in their story. _


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well then, my friends, here we are - the last chapter. Enjoy!!!

“You know” Peter said as they strolled through the streets of Dev’s mind after having performed a recognizance spell so that his best friend would know where they were going, “Didn’t quite picture it like this. It’s nice, though.”

Dev laughed. “What else could it have been? Look.” He pointed at a building Peter hadn’t seen before.

“Dear God, really? Looks even uglier than I remember.”

It was the block of flats he had lived in when they had first met.

“Pretty sure that’s where the memories of you accepting the job Is stored. Still, better not check; we should get out of here.”

Peter thought that it might have been kind of fun, even if it would take some time… The next moment he realized he could only agree – here he was, in danger of getting lost in someone else’s memories again.

“So where are we headed?”

Dev smiled. “We had to take a round, doesn’t make much sense, I know, still… Where I always wanted to go.”

And so they needed up at the Thursday house again – Peter couldn’t say whether it was a different one or indeed the one where he had slain a giant beast, and at this point he didn’t care anymore.

“Alright then” Dev said, “After you.”

Peter knew he wouldn’t accept him asking Dev to be the first, instead as he pushed the door open.

Behind it was all darkness, but he obeyed the order of his captain.

* * *

“Sir?” Peter asked groggily and he turned his head to see him sit up, blinking slowly at him.

“Sergeant, what –“

When Dev began to tremble in his arms, Fred prepared himself for another – possible the last – seizure.

No matter what happened, he wouldn’t have been able to ever look Win into the eyes again if he left their son to die alone.

And then Dev took a deep, heaving breath and all but shot upward.

“Oy!” he dragged him back down lest standing up so quickly harmed him, “Now you take care, Mo –“

“Dad?”

He needed a moment to register what he had called him.

Then – “_Dev_!?”

He nodded as he settled back into his embrace. Fred’s arms tightened around him. “_God_, Dev.”

When he pulled back (against his wishes, as his instinct were screaming at him never to let go of his child again) Dev was smiling. “You’re back.”

“Good to be back”. He peered over his shoulder. “Peter?”

“Hey, Dev” he said, sounded somewhat weak, “Seems like we made it.”

Dev nodded, then hugged Fred one last time before getting up. “We should get home.”

There was no question whether Peter would accompany them or not.

* * *

Fred remembered well what had happened immediately after they had recalled Dev’s existence. The first few days, whenever they were together, Joan had barely left his side, had even called into the station several times. When Dev hadn’t been there, Peter had always been glad to assure her that everything was still the same.

He felt like doing that, now, never leaving him out of his sight again; and Peter, apparently realizing so, elected to walk a few paces behind them.

He didn’t know what to say so eventually he settled on, “God, Dev.”

“I know.”

And ironically, he did know. He was the only person who could actually say that he knew exactly what they had felt.

How strong his son was, to have dealt with this for fifteen years. “Mum’ll be pleased. And Joan and Sam, of course. They’ve all been worried.”

“Small wonder” he shook his head. “The last month wasn’t… pleasant.”

It was all he would admit to, as Fred well knew. “It’s over, at least.”

“Not quite” he said as quietly as he could.

“What do you –“

“Not tonight, Dad, please.”

“Alright, son.” God, it felt good to call him that again without causing him harm.

Dev glanced behind himself, where Peter was just stumbling along more than anything else, if he was being honest. “Dear God, Dad” he all but whispered, “Did he get any sleep in the last few weeks?”

“Rest wasn’t exactly on any of our minds” he admitted, thinking that he could have kept a better eye on him instead of leaving him to sort this out. “Is he going to be alright?”

“I wouldn’t worry, mostly I think he’s drained. I was at least in my own mind, but he wandered through another’s. Anyone would be tired.”

It was as good an explanation as he would get.

* * *

They were dancing around one another, and Joan wanted to scream. They all had felt the same pain, she was sure, and yet they hadn’t mentioned it; instead they were quietly bustling about, waiting for Dad to come home and tell them… tell them…

She couldn’t think about it. She wouldn’t.

Dev. God, Dev.

A few months? Was that really going to be all? A few months, and she hadn’t even done most of the things she’d wanted to do. She hadn’t accompanied Dev to the opera yet – having chosen to gift him tickets on his birthday – and she hadn’t read Hardy with him yet and they hadn’t gone dancing…

She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes but refused to let them fall.

Sam was silent, of course. Since his outburst in the archive, he had barely said anything at all.

Mum was in the kitchen.

The bell rang.

Her heart sank. It was usually a bad sign when Dad didn’t bother to open it himself.

Before she could do anything, Mum had rushed to open it.

Joan followed suit, determined not to leave them alone with the news, whatever it may be.

She didn’t understand until Dev – Dev – said gently, “Hello, Mum.”

* * *

“Dev?”

And then her boy, _her son_, was finally back into her arms where he belonged.

This time, she didn’t bother to fight down her sobs.

He immediately pulled back and tried to comfort her, like he had during the war, “It’s alright Mum, I’m fine –“

“Stop it” she told him, pulling him back into her arms, “Just this once, Endeavour. My Endeavour. Please.”

He complied and she breathed inn his familiar scent, the scent that, underneath it all, had barely changed since a little boy with russet curls had entered her life and she had foolishly believed would never leave it again.

Hey didn’t stay in their own little bubble for long, since all of a sudden, Sam was there, crying out his brother’s name.

As opposed to the silence he’d maintained during the evening, he now kept babbling as he tried to hug Dev while Win was still holding him, because God-this-was-difficult-never-do-that-again-Oxford-lost-last-week-did-you-even-notice-Joanie-was-so-annoying-withoiut-you-around and and and…

He let him talk and simply drew him to his side. “it’s alright, Sammy. It’s alright. You can breathe. I’m back for good.”

Joan, instead of running up to him like she had when they had first remembered, was standing in the doorway to the living room, swallowing. “Hey, Dev.”

“Hey, Joanie” he replied gently when Sam had calmed down. “Quite some time no see.”

And only then did she throw herself into his arms with a sob.

It was then that Win realized they were still standing at the open door. “Oh, come in, all of you” she said when she realized Peter was slightly swaying on his feet. “Tea, I’d say. Lots of it.”

And better out at least three spoons full of sugar in every single one of them.

* * *

Peter could no longer deny that he was exhausted; even with the family happily chattering around him, all he could do was cling to his tea and revel in the fact that Dev was indeed sitting next to him, perfectly aware of who he was once more.

He’d almost finished it – afterwards, he’d go home…

Suddenly the drink was taken out of his hands and he wanted to protest but only managed a weak sound.

Still, he made the effort and had almost fully returned to consciousness (when had he closed his eyes anyway?) when he felt a nudge from Dev’s magic, reassuring him, making him feel safe and appreciated.

_Bastard_, was all he could think (albeit fondly) before sleep dragged him under.

* * *

“Is he alright, dear?” Mum immediately asked when Dev set about to make Peter comfortable.

“Yes, don’t worry; he’ll sleep through the night and be right as rain” he parroted the words she’d so often told him. “His magic has put him under; happens when a magic user is very exhausted. Sort of a natural version of a healing trance.”

He should have known that would produce a reaction.

“And how often has that happened to you, Dev?” Joan asked immediately.

“I have never –“

She glared at him.

“Alright, that one time –“

She scoffed.

“Fine, two or three –“

She rolled her eyes.

“Well then, yes, it has happened a few times, but there was always so much to do…” He wasn’t going to divulge details, like the time he fainted right into sleep in his office and Peter had had to catch him.

“Let’s have dinner” Mum decided and he breathed a sigh of relief. She glanced worriedly at Peter. “I’d rather him have some food too, but if he needs it, we can remedy that at breakfast.”

Dev nodded, then went to tuck in his best friend better.

* * *

Until he sat down at the dinner table, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed home, even if it had been subconsciously.

But here he was; there was Mum heaping food on his plate; Sam talking a mile a minute, intent on filling him in on what had happened while he had been gone; Joan at his elbow, not letting him out of her sought once more; and Dad beaming proudly at all of them.

Home. He had a _home_. He had a family who loved him.

It was all a bit much, and despite his years of practice, he burst into tears.

Immediately Mum was there to hold him.

* * *

Finally, finally she could hug their oldest again. Small wonder he was crying; it had been a difficult time for them all. “It’s alright, dear, I’m here” she whispered, just like she had during the war when the bombs had gone down. For a moment, it was just her and Dev again.

Then she gently kissed his curls and leaned back to let the others know everything would be alright.

Joan started to rub Dev’s back while Sam hovered nearby; Fred, who understood that they all needed this, nodded at her.

To her dismay, Dev started apologizing when he pulled back. “None of that” she told him, gently wiping his face, “Here, why don’t we have a nice dinner and then an early night. We could all use it.”

She made sure he cleaned his plate twice and attempted to do so a third time. He really needed to put on some weight.

* * *

Hours later, Fred found himself walking back to the bedroom after having used the bath. There was still light on in Dev’s and Sam’s room, so he decided to check it out.

All three of the children were fast asleep, apparently having drifted off while talking; Sam had moved his bed closer to Dev’s, and Joan’s head was pillowed on her older brother’s chest.

Fred smiled and quickly pulled a duvet over all of them. Let them have their time together; God knew they deserved it.

* * *

Dev woke up, temporarily distracted by the darkness and the duvet that had been placed over him and Joan.

Then he smiled and slipped out.

He put the kettle on.

Dad came down a few minutes later. “Role reversal, son?”

“Some things are changing” he said lightly and quietly, so not to disturb Peter although it was highly unlikely he’d stir until morning.

“You can say that again.”

Dev had just put the kettle off the stove and was about to pour the tea when Dad drew him into his arms. “Dev” he breathed, “Bloody Hell, Dev.”

“I’m back, Dad” he mumbled, squeezing him for all he was worth, “I’m back.”

“And thank God for that”.

They stood there for a few moments, just hugging an taking deep breaths, before letting go.

“You better eat everything Mum puts in front of you in the next few days” Dad told him sternly, “Put some meat back on those bones.”

“I’ll do my best.” In truth, he was still full from dinner, but then, he hadn’t had a home-cooked meal in a month. And of course, he’d believed it had been years since he’d had a mother.

Then, ever so quietly, he added, “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“Never, son. Never.”

And in the dark, Dad reached out to squeeze his shoulder.

* * *

Peter came to slowly. Some instinct told him it was early, and there was music playing. His mind, schooled from years of living with Dev, let him know the truth before he even registered it. “Pachelbel’s canon” he muttered, opening his eyes.

Dev grinned at him from his piano. “Knew you’d wake up when you were ready, so I might as well.” His smile dropped from his face. “Peter…”

“If you, Endeavour Thursday, are going to give me a lecture about self-care, you have another thing coming.”

They stared at one another, then Dev sighed. “Deserved that one.”

But Peter’s thoughts were already straying in another direction. “Play something else?” Despite their close friendship, he’d rarely heard Dev play; first, he had refused to do so until the spell had been lifted, and then, despite popping in and out of his family home at all times, there had never really been an opportunity for Peter to ask…

He smiled that half-smile of huis. “Whatever you want.”

“Your favourites, then. In no particular order.”

And he settled in to listen to his captain and friend and relax for the first time in a month.

* * *

Win thought she was the first one up until she heard the music and had to stand still in the hallway for a moment lest she start crying with relief. She didn’t want Dev to see tears in her eyes yet again.

Once she had calmed down, she went into the kitchen to make breakfast.

* * *

It was when Joan and Sam showed up that Peter remembered this was an important family moment and that he better beat a hasty retreat. Dev would understand – and anyway, someone had to let the Guard and the Chairman know.

He’d made its almost to the front door when Mrs. Thursday exclaimed, “_Where do you think you are going, young man?_”

It sounded so much like something she’d say to Dev that he didn’t realize he was being addressed until he turned around and found her looking at him. “Sit down, Peter. You need something to eat.”

Behind her back, Dev’s eyes were laughing at him. _Got you now_, they said.

But their bond was back and as strong as ever, and how could Peter refuse to spend more time with him?

* * *

When Fred made it downstairs, he found the kiddies and Peter laughing at the table. Win wished him good morning with a kiss.

“Look at that” he mumbled, “Never thought we’d have more than two, and it seems we’ll end up with four.”

“None of that” she whispered. “We got him back, all thanks to Peter.”

* * *

Dev insisted on going to work – at least into headquarters. Mum was against it, of course, but allowed him to go under oath that he would return for lunch – “And that includes you too” she told Peter who seemed rather confused under this wave of maternal care, but Dev thought it’d do him good. He knew that his friend had felt a little lonely now and then ever since things had returned to normal; let him be part of all of this. He deserved it.

* * *

Peter had phoned in and let Sally know what happened, after eating a much heartier breakfast than he was sued to, so perhaps they should have expected this, but hadn’t.

When they opened the door and strolled in, the entire Guard stood to attention, welcoming their Captain back.

He saw Dev sniff and turn his head for a moment to hide his tears before he faced them, obviously touched.

* * *

There really wasn’t much to do; Peter had done an excellent job at running the Guard, as Dev had always known he would.

But there were some things only he could do.

And so he was walking to the Chairman’s office.

He knocked and waited until he bade him enter.

He was sitting at his desk. “Ah, Endeavour.”

As if he had never left. “Good morning, Chairman.”

“Have a seats. I take it everything is back to normal?”

He nodded as he sat down.

“Commander Jakes did his best to replace you for the time being, and he was…”

He interrupted him quickly, thinking of Peter, who still looked pale and drawn out and relieved whenever he set eyes on Dev. “Of course, Chairman. There was never any question of that. Still – we should probably take things slow. A careful transition so we can all get used to things.”

“That is probably for the best” he agreed with surprisingly little resistance.

After a pause, Dev got up to return to headquarters. He had almost reached the door when the Chairman called out, “Endeavour, wait.”

He turned around to find him standing in front of him.

He reached out and touched his hand with cold fingers. He had rarely done so deliberately before.

Then he said “It is good to have you back.”

“Good to be back” he managed to answer.

The fingers fell off his wrist. “Yes. A few more years. After all, it can’t hurt.”

They both heard the unspoken _And I don’t have to leave for a little while longer_, but didn’t comment on it.

And then he remembered something else. “There is something I would ask of your, Chairman…”

* * *

Brother Gabriel took his duty seriously, of course. “And so we dedicate this altar to Mnemosyne and Lethe…”

If you asked Peter, Dev was too bloody forgiving. Between the two of them, they had almost killed him, and here they were, giving them a shrine. And Dev had even hinted that Lethe might come back if enough people prayed to her.

But this was what his captain and friend had asked of him, so here he was, together with the Thursdays, the Council, and a good portion of the Guard.

Dev was back in his element, seemingly not wondering about the month he had been gone, but Peter knew better.

They would talk. Eventually.

For now, he was back where he belonged, and that was enough.

**Two months later**

Fred had never much cared for the theatre. There was something about it that had always rubbed him the wrong way – no matter how well acted, how well portrayed it all was, even as a child, he had known it was just a façade, a game, and that as soon as the lights went out, the actors would return to their real lives that struck him as infinitely more important because they were what was really going on, as opposed to the struggles and deaths of kings who had lived long before or never truly done so at all.

Even so, he couldn’t deny that he was taking some pleasure in today’s performance. He was sending Dev and Peter all across the city, while in the Guard, Sally was sure to keep them occupied as well.

He stepped into the squad room. “Where are the boys now?”

Strange blinked up at him and he belatedly realized he’d talked like he would to Win. “Dev and Sergeant Jakes” he remembered to clarify.

“At the Guard headquarters, sir.”

He nodded. Almost five; soon enough, all of this would be over.

* * *

Mum had all but ordered Peter to have dinner with them tonight, and so Dev was driving them back to their home.

“She really doesn’t have to do that” Peter suddenly said quietly and Dev reflected that he still had to get used to being cared for this way.

“You know her – she wouldn’t sleep well if she didn’t know you had a good meal.”

That seemed to placate him.

Dev rather had a suspicion why they’d been busy all day and soon proved to be correct.

The second he opened the door, many people shouted, “Happy Birthday!” He and Peter might be a few years apart, but their birth dates fell into the same month.

* * *

Peter’s mouth was open, staring at all the people who’d come into their lives – Dev’s family, the Guard members, half of Cowley station – even Superintendent Bright and his wife were there.

It was only when Dev poked his side that he remembered to thank them all.

It was the best – and first – birthday party of his life. Even years later, when eh was old and reported to Endeavour Thursday the Chairman on a regular basis, he would remember every detail of it.

Much later that night, he slipped out for a cigarette. He wasn’t yet used to parties, it seemed, and needed a moment for himself.

Or rather, themselves, for Dev soon followed him, as he had known he would. “You should stop that.“

“I will” he promised him, stubbing out his cigarette. Then, he said, for the first time alluding to that horrid month, “Never do that again.”

_Never leave me again. Never forget me again. Never force me to do this without you again. _

A pause. Then, “I can’t really promise, but I’ll try my outmost.”

It would have to do.

And it did, as the two best friends stood under the stars, looking out into the future.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I honestly think this wouldn't have happened without imaginationtherapy's wonderful fic Rusty Cage.  
2\. It just seemed right to make Peter the hero in this. Poor precious bean.  
3\. Really hoping you enjoyed this and that you have a most pleasant day!


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